


Spoils of War

by Neuropsyche



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: AU no super powers, Anal, Bathing, Dark, M/M, Master/Slave, Oral, Peter is a defeated enemy soldier, Physical Abuse, Rape, Tony is a warlord of sorts, non con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:33:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 26
Words: 45,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23051755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neuropsyche/pseuds/Neuropsyche
Summary: Peter finds out what happens when you're on the losing side of a war
Relationships: Peter Parker/Tony Stark
Comments: 244
Kudos: 560





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a request fic. It's dark and not fluffy like I usually write. Mind the tags! Peter can be whatever age you want him to be but I'm writing him as eighteen in this one.

The battle was over. For that matter, the war was probably over – at least for a time. The keep had been a tough nut to crack, but the supreme commander of the sultan’s army had highly trained men and had reinforced them with a large party of mercenaries that had turned the tide and breached the walls after many weeks of fighting.

Now Tony Stark was walking through the town that had supported the keep, just inside the walls, and was surveying the damages done – and also had another errand in mind, once the official things were out of the way. Beside him walked his aide, as well as one of his colonels.

“Losses?”

The colonel shrugged.

“We’re at forty percent of able-bodied.” The three men watched as a small group of the mercenaries led a few of the townspeople away, bound and dejected – and clearly afraid. With good reason, of course, since to the victors went the spoils. There were many women – and _men_ – and the mercenaries weren’t the only ones who would be finding unwilling partners to warm their beds for the next several days while the armies cleaned up and organized the keep. His own men would be doing the same, once their superiors gave them permission. “We’ll start burning the dead once we get a tally of who they are, and the wounded have been put in the houses around the keep to make them comfortable.”

“Good.” Stark watched as one of the men tried to make a break for it, and was tackled by a few laughing mercenaries and dragged back to the group. “Remind Rogers that his men aren’t to kill anyone, now that the town is secure.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

The population was going to be in for a long recovery – made more so by the raping, pillaging and controlled looting that was already beginning – but the townspeople were civilians, and they were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time and had been on the wrong side of the walls. The army under Stark was disciplined enough to know better than to kill innocents, now that the battle for the keep was over, and if the mercenaries got out of the control of their leader, they’d be punished, ruthlessly.

The alliance only went so far, after all. Discipline was everything. Or at least the appearance of discipline.

The aide left them, heading at a trot for the mercenary captain’s command post, safely wrapped in the authority of his leader. Tony turned to his colonel.

“Take me to the captured soldiers.”

They walked through the west end of the keep and ended at a heavily guarded field. Originally used to gather the town’s geese and ducks, at the moment it held rows of captured men. All were kneeling. Stripped of weapons, and all clothing save for their underwear, to ensure none were concealing weapons. Both to keep them from trying to escape, and to keep them from killing themselves if they were of a mind to try.

They were in lines, with guards watching them, carefully, and all of the conquerors stood straight and tall as their commander entered the field, looking at the men with interest. These were the remains of the actual army. The _real_ soldiers, as opposed to the townspeople who had been handed pikes and told to defend their families to the death. They would not be afforded the same considerations as civilians, and even though they were defeated, they were still considered somewhat dangerous.

As Stark walked along the rows, looking at them with interest that he wasn't showing, he noted without surprise that they ranged from the absurdly old and grizzled – the veterans of countless campaigns, no doubt – to incredibly young and untried. Not so many of the truly young ones; they were inexperienced and tended to be used as cannon fodder and as such, rarely survived the initial encounters. Some of the captured men were looking down, defeated, as Tony walked through their ranks, while others watched him, defiantly.

They would all be sold, and they must know it. Had Stark and his army failed to win the day, the roles would be reversed, and they would be the ones waiting their fate.

He stopped in front of one of the younger ones; a pale lad with a head of dirty, matted hair that waved, slightly, as it fell down his shoulders. The boy had been looking down, but when he saw the boots stop in front of him, he looked up, into Stark’s cold gaze. Tony looked him over, eyes hooded. Lean like all of them were – except a few of the sergeants – and lanky. Still young enough that he had yet to fill out into the man that he eventually would be. Long legs and beautiful doe eyes that held mostly shock but a goodly amount of fear and uncertainty and eyelashes that wouldn’t have been out of place on a woman of the evening. He was bruised and cut, but nothing debilitating, or he would be with the wounded enemy soldiers. The boy’s full lips made Tony’s eyes narrow, just a little, and he looked down, almost certainly feeling the instinctive fear that comes to prey when a predator is standing over them, or stalking them.

Stark had found what he was looking for.

He turned to his colonel.

“Have this one cleaned up and taken to my quarters.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

Tony turned away, continuing his inspection of the captured troops, and ignoring the moan of fear as two of his men stepped forward and hauled the young man to his feet and hustled him away. He would finish what he was doing; it was expected, but he was definitely looking forward to the coming evening, now.

><><><><><>

Stark’s quarters were the top floor of the captured keep’s manor house. A large room with a fireplace and furnishings for entertaining more than a few people at a time, a couple of low slung couches, several rugs and fat cushions on the floor and a table that could seat twenty, but was now devoid of any. There were a few platters of cheeses and meats, fruits and delicacies that his aide knew he preferred, and kneeling on the floor beside the head of the table was the captured soldier. The boy was much cleaner, now, Tony noted with approval. His hair had been washed and cut to a more respectable length – although not all of the curls had been cut off; there were plenty to capture a fistful, he knew. His body was now cleaned, as were the minor cuts that mostly were on his forearms and hands – although a dark bruise above his right eye explained how he’d probably managed to avoid dying in the battle. A blow had probably knocked him out, early, and everyone had considered him dead until it had come time to clean the battlefield.

He was dressed, now, in only a loincloth, a simple garment that reinforced the notion that he was no one, now, and not worthy of real clothing. It wrapped around his lean hips and through his legs, tailing in the front.

Tony stopped in front of him, looking down once more.

“Your name?”

The boy – and maybe he wasn't quite as young as Stark had first thought, now that he was clean and closer – looked up. Those beautiful eyes still scared.

“Peter.”

Tony slapped him. Hard enough to jolt him to the side.

“You will address me as _Master_. Understood?”

Eyes filling with tears, he righted himself and nodded.

“Yes, Master.”

“Apologize.”

“I’m sorry, Master.”

It ended with a sob, but the blow had been open-handed and intended to hurt, but not to maime or cripple. Probably he’d felt many such blows in his training to be a soldier.

Mollified, Stark grabbed a handful of those curls and turned his face up to look at him.

“You understand why you’re here? Did they explain it to you?”

“No, Master. Only that I was to do as you said, or risk being killed. Or worse.”

The shudder that ran through his slim frame made it clear that he had no problem imaging what might be worse.

“I am a commander,” Tony told him. “I have many responsibilities and duties. They’re stressful.”

“Yes, Master.”

“You’re here to relieve that stress. However I see fit.”

“Yes, Master.”

The ready capitulation was exactly the right thing to say. Any other reply might have found the young man beaten. Or worse.

Tony sat down at the table, near where Peter was kneeling. He took a bite of one of the rolls, studying him while he chewed it, thoughtfully.

“Have you been fed?”

“No, Master. They gave me some water.”

“Come closer.” The boy crawled the few feet to where Tony sat, understanding without being told that he was to stay on his knees unless given permission to stand. Stark picked up a piece of cheese. “Open up.”

Peter opened his mouth, obediently, and Tony fed him the cheese, brushing his thumb against the boy’s lip as he did so. Peter chewed it and swallowed, and the commander felt his groin twitch at the sight. He guided the boy’s cheek to his thigh, but continued to feed him, enjoying the sight of Peter’s mouth working whatever morsel he was fed so much that he only took a few bites for himself.

“I need a bath,” Tony said, well aware that the boy was much cleaner than he was, just then.

Peter didn’t lift his head from where Tony had put it, and his hand was braced against the bigger man’s calf to keep from falling.

“There is a bathing room through that door, Master,” he said, pointing.

“Good. And a bedroom?”

Peter paled.

“Through that door, Master.” He replied, pointing, again.

He’d had a chance to look around when they’d brought him in.

Stark got to his feet, jostling Peter, who clearly wasn't sure what he was supposed to do with his head now that the lap was gone.

“Come.”

The large hand found its grip in those curls, once more, and pulled him roughly to his feet. Peter was ed to the bathing room. There was a large tub, already filled with water that had started boiling hot, but a hand dipped into it told Tony that it was now perfect for bathing. He looked at Peter, who stood where Tony had left him.

“Undress me.”

The boy stepped up without hesitation, and Stark forced himself not to show his approval. Clearly he’d been told that hesitation wouldn’t be accepted. Tony held himself still while Peter pulled his light vest off, and set it, neatly, aside, and then unbuttoned his shirt and slid it over the commander’s head, baring his upper body. Tony watched Peter’s eyes looking at him, noting the many scars and the muscular chest and shoulders of the older man.

“Don’t stop.”

The boy flinched.

“Yes, Master.”

He stepped a little closer, uncertainly, and reached for the fastener of Tony’s trousers, opening them.

“Boots, first,” Stark said, rolling his eyes, annoyed that he had to tell him what to do.

“Yes, Master. I’m sorry.”

Peter dropped to his knees and Tony lifted a foot, allowing him to pull the right boot off, and then the left, taking socks with them.

“Kiss my foot,” Tony commanded him.

Peter leaned over, pressing a kiss against the man’s upper foot and flinching when Tony’s hand ran along the roundness of his ass that presented itself at the motion. Stark swatted him, but although it was a stinging blow, it was almost playful, and not intended to hurt.

Much.

“Hurry, boy,” Tony said. “The water’s getting cold.”

Peter straightened but when he would have stood, Tony’s hand kept him on his knees. The boy understood the silent command and undid the commander’s pants, pulling them down and off when Tony raised his foot to allow each leg to be freed. The man’s cock was already swollen, and Peter looked at it, and then up at Tony.

“Open up,” Stark told him, pressing his hips forward and nudging the head of his cock against Peter’s lips just as the boy did as he was told and opened his mouth. The hand returned to Peter’s curls and Tony held his head in place as he shoved his cock ruthlessly into his mouth, making Peter gag, immediately. “Don’t you dare throw up,” Tony said, looking down and leaning his upper body back just a little so he could watch as Peter tried to swallow his cock without gagging.

The sounds he was making were agonized, but Tony didn’t punish him for that. He pushed Peter’s hands away when the young man tried to hold him, trying to regulate how much he was given at one time, and Tony grunted when he felt Peter’s throat seize against the tender flesh of his cock as he brutalized him, fucking himself as deep as he could and only getting harder and larger as he did.

“That’s it,” Tony crooned. “Taste that? That’s your master’s cock.”

Peter’s body was tense with pain and fear as he choked on the invading member, but he was also quite firmly in Tony’s grip and he couldn’t have pulled away if he’d tried. Stark rewarded him for his obedience by pulling back a little, allowing him to breathe.

“Play with my balls,” he told him. “Suck the head. You know what you like… pleasure me like the slut you're going to be.”

Peter moaned, tears streaming down his cheeks as he did what he was told and concentrated on suckling the head of Tony’s cock, playing with his heavy testicles and daring to stroke the shaft, now that it wasn't being shoved down his throat.

Stark closed his eyes, feeling the pressure building inside his balls, and somewhat surprised by just how quickly he was building to climax. It had been a while, though, since his last blowjob and the sight of Peter’s swollen lips around the heads of his cock was delicious. He tightened his hold on Peter’s hair and jerked his hips forward just as he came. Peter tried to pull back, not in defiance but in surprise, but Tony’s grip was implacable and his voice rough with his release.

“Swallow it,” he grunted. “Every fucking drop.”

Peter did what he was told, lips clamping down on the shaft fingers stilling on his balls where they had been able to feel the moment of Tony’s release. As Tony looked on in approval, Peter slurped and licked, sucking and swallowing everything that his master fed him, and managed not to gag too loudly when Tony shoved his cock back down his throat in a series of hard thrusts that were accompanied by a shudder of pleasure that ran through the bigger man’s body.

Only when he was drained did Tony finally pull away, releasing Peter’s hair and looking down at him. Face red, eyes bright with tears and pain – and humiliation – and lips swollen, he had no idea just how delicious he looked to the older man.

“That was well done,” Tony crooned, giving him just a little comfort – and a chance to catch his breath. “Now get undressed and bathe me.”


	2. 2

He was slow to comply, but not from hesitation. As the boy let his loincloth drop he glanced at the bath, uncertainly.

“What do I do, Master?”

Stark glanced along Peter’s body, admiring just how young and perfect he was. Almost hairless, however, considering that he was clearly fully grown. The limp penis was small, and fringed with fine hairs that were lighter than the curls on the boy’s head. His stomach was flat, and his chest well developed, if not overly muscled.

“What do you do?” Tony echoed, stepping up to him and sliding his hand down Peter’s stomach, his fingers curling around the shaft and giving him an experimental tug. “You get in the tub. Now.”

Peter was held fast, though, by the grip that the commander had on his penis. He wasn't sure if he should pull himself out of the hand that had hold of him to obey, or if he should stay and allow the man to do what he was doing until he was finished. He decided to do as he’d been told and made a motion to go toward the tub. Stark released his penis, and watched as the boy climbed into the bathtub, watching him with every motion.

“Now, I’m going to join you. You’re going to bathe me, and you’re going to massage me and make me feel good. Got it?”

“Yes, Master."

He motioned for Peter to move to the end of the tub and climbed in, as well, turning his back on the boy and parting Peter’s legs to fit his larger body in between them. Tony leaned back against him, feeling the tension in Peter’s lean body as he did. He closed his eyes, and felt a tentative touch on his shoulder, and then another on his other arm.

A shift behind him when he didn’t reprimand the boy, and Peter reached for a cloth and the soap that had been left when the bath had been prepared. A moment later the cloth was being dragged across his shoulder, and then his arm and then his forearm. Tony made an approving noise and Peter’s hands began to wash him. There wasn't much lather, but the soap was being caressed into his skin as the boy washed and massaged his arms and shoulder, simultaneously, his fingers stronger than his slight frame would imply, and his hands leaving Tony more relaxed as Peter began to get more comfortable with his task.

Peter reached around Tony’s body to wash his chest, and his hand slid along his stomach as well as he could reach. Then he washed his sides and his ribs.

“I can’t reach the rest, Master…”

Tony leaned forward.

“Move, then, and wash me from the front.”

Peter moved out from behind him, and now it was Tony who parted his legs to allow the boy between them. There was a large pitcher and Peter reached for it, using it to rinse the soap from Tony’s body, so far.

“Your hair, too, Master?” the boy asked.

“Yes.”

The boy moved closer, kneeling between Stark’s legs, facing him. The sight was appealing and Tony slid his hand along Peter’s stomach, once more. There was a slight intake of breath, and the young man hesitated, holding the pitcher. He rose up a little in order to hold the pitcher above Tony’s head, and when he did Stark took hold of him, again, sliding his wet hand along Peter’s shaft, tugging it roughly and pressing his thumb against the slit hard enough to make the boy moan in pain.

“Wash my hair,” Tony ordered, continuing to stroke Peter.

He did as he was told, pouring the water over his master’s head, wetting his hair and then reaching for the soap, holding his midsection still while Tony continued to play with his penis. The older man was amused, but not surprised, when the boy began to respond even as he lathered Stark’s hair, moving closer to do a thorough job of it and nudging Tony’s legs further apart, inadvertently. He leaned forward and pressed a kiss against the boy’s chest and Peter was so startled that he spilled the pitcher of water on himself, rather than using it to rinse Stark’s hair.

Peter blushed and filled the pitcher again, trying to ignore what was being done to him as Tony began pressing kisses along his neck and chest, sucking dark marks into his skin and nipping him hard enough to leave welts but not draw blood. The ever present motion of his hand sliding along his cock was having its effect and what had been a small, uninterested penis was now filling Tony’s hand, while the young man’s breathing was slightly ragged by the time he had rinsed the soap from the commander’s hair.

He set the pitcher aside, now, and picked up the cloth, once more, now washing Tony’s chest, once more, and then moving lower, to his stomach, washing the places that he hadn’t been able to reach when behind him. His eyes went to his master’s lap, the tip of his once more swollen cock was just breaching the surface of the water and Tony released him and took a handful of his curls, again, pulling his head down to his groin, but luckily raising up because Peter opened his mouth, knowing what was expected of him and moaning when Tony’s cock was once more shoved into his mouth.

“You’re so good at that,” the commander told him, jerking his hips up, watching Peter struggle to keep his face above the water and suck on him. “I don’t need a cloth to wash my cock, do I? Not with your pretty mouth always close by. Suck it, pet. Get me hard.”

Peter moaned and complied, his hand moving to once more fondle Tony’s balls, rolling them in his hand as his mouth was fucked by the older man. Tony’s hand in his hair held his face close to the surface of the water with every up thrust he made, but Peter didn’t try to struggle. He focused on what he was doing, and Tony decided that he was trying to get it over with as quickly as possible. He made a final thrust, deep, and held himself there for a long ten count, while Peter’s face was pulled under the water. Just when the lean body tensed with fear, he pulled his head back up above water and slid his cock out of the boy’s mouth with a wet slurping sound and a raspy gasp as Peter drew in a deep breath, coughing.

“Clean my legs and feet,” Tony told him, calmly, as if he hadn’t just about drowned him. “Hurry up.”

Tears once more dampening his cheeks, Peter did as he was told. He ran the cloth along each thigh, taking care to make sure the cloth touched everywhere, and the washed his lower legs. The young man turned away from Tony to wash his feet, and Stark reached a large hand out and pressed it against Peter’s ass. The boy froze at the touch, which excited the older man.

He pulled his foot out of Peter’s grasp and shifted, nudging the younger man’s knees apart as he moved up behind him. His hand went to Peter’s head, pushing him down over the side of the tub and grabbing that convenient headful of curls to hold him in place, while the other slid along Peter’s crack. His fingers stopped at Peter’s opening, and he forced his thumb into him, fighting the rings of muscles that were trying to keep him out.

“Oh, that’s just beautiful, pet,” Tony murmured, listening to Peter’s whine of fear and pain at the invasion. “Yes.”

He pulled his thumb out and tightened his hold on Peter’s hair as he guided the head of his rigid cock to replace it. Peter moaned, trying to shift under him, but the motion only made his knee slip a little, opening it even further, and exciting Stark, who forced himself in Peter with a series of hard, short thrusts that left the young man fighting back sobs and his master balls deep inside him with a triumphant grunt of pleasure.

Tony didn’t give him a chance to acclimate. He rested for a moment, making sure he had a good grip on Peter’s hip and his hair and began pumping into him, thrusting so hard that water was being splashed onto the floor. Peter had hold of the edge of the tub, but it was hard to keep that grip with Tony’s heavy body thrusting above him, driving him forward with every motion, and jamming his own hips painfully into the side of the tub, repeatedly.

The hand holding his hair released him as the thrusts grew harder, more frantic, and Stark wrapped his arm around Peter’s neck, pulling him back against him. Close enough, now, that he could put his cheek against Peter’s and could bite at his ear before forcing him to turn his head to kiss him, aroused even further by the tears smearing the boy’s cheek.

Tony came, hard, slamming into Peter so forcefully that half of the water in the tub sloshed over the side of the tub. Without a word, Tony emptied himself into the boy, several more thrusts for good measure, and because he liked the way Peter’s tight ass felt.

Only when he was completely satiated did he finally let Peter’s neck loose, and then pulled out, allowing the young man to drape himself back over the edge of the tub, bonelessly. Tony slapped the pale skin of that tight ass, but Peter was so dazed by the thorough – and _rough_ – fucking that he’d been on the receiving end of, that he didn’t do more than make a soft, pained, noise. Tony stood up and stepped out of the tub, reaching for a towel and looking at the water on the floor with disapproval.

“Clean this mess up and come to bed.”

Then he wrapped the towel around his waist and left.


	3. 3

He was lounging in the bed reading a book when the boy finally made an appearance.

Walking painfully, as if every part of him ached (and it probably _did_ , Tony knew) the boy entered the bedroom warily, his hair still wet and his body bruised with hickeys and bitemarks and sheened with moisture.

Stark frowned.

“Why didn’t you dry off?”

“The towels are all wet, Master,” the boy replied, dully. He clearly expected to be beaten or punished for it, but was beyond being afraid, now. Too many things had happened to him in too short of a space of time, and all he could do was shiver from the cold and the shock of it all. “I used them to clean the floor.”

Tony sat up, setting the book aside, moving the blankets he’d been under and reaching for his own discarded towel.

“Come here, pet.”

Peter did as he was told, of course, walking over and standing next to where Tony was now sitting on the edge of the bed. The older man was naked, and he parted his thighs, gesturing for Peter to stand between them. When he did, Tony went to work with the towel, starting with Peter’s hair, roughly drying it until the worst of the water was absorbed, and then moving his way down his face, his neck, shoulders and arms, back, belly, penis and rear – where he was almost gentle – and then even leaning down to dry the boy’s thighs and calves.

Peter held still, shaking so hard that the older man wondered if he was going to fly apart, and when Tony was done, he took the towel the man handed to him and set it on the small table beside the bed to dry.

“Here.” Tony returned to his spot on the bed, pulling the blankets back and patting the spot beside him. “You’re _freezing_ ,” the older man complained when Peter gingerly settled into the spot beside him.

It didn’t make him shiver any less, even when Stark covered the two of them, warmly, and pulled the younger man right up beside him, sharing his body heat.

“I’m sorry, Master.”

He trembled harder, and Stark put an arm around him, tucking Peter against his side, bringing his head down to his chest.

“You _should_ be sorry,” Tony replied, sternly, pressing a kiss against the boy’s curls so tenderly that Peter shook, for fear it was a trick. “I was just getting to the good part of my book and you’re interrupting it.”

The boy sniffed, a soft sob escaping his control.

“Stop that,” Stark told him. “I didn’t hurt you that badly.”

Despite the command, another sob followed the first, and Peter tried to roll away, cringing even as tears blinded him. Tony sighed and pulled him back up against his side, strong arms coming around him and holding him pinned where he was.

“I…” he couldn’t even apologize through the sobs, now, and as Tony held him, he broke down, crying; the horrors of the battle, and the bloody aftermath, and then his time with Stark all crashing down on him and overwhelming him until he couldn’t hold it inside. “Ple-e-ea…se… I’m…”

“Shhh…” He ran his hand along the young man’s back, trying to soothe him – more out of self-defense, really, since he didn’t want to drown in all the snot and tears – and kissed his ear. “Hush, Pet… it’s alright. Shhh…”

Despite the reassurance, it was a long time before the trembling stopped and the tears dried up. Peter finally sniffed, again, and no sob followed.

“I’m sorry, Master…” he whispered into Stark’s chest.

This time Tony didn’t tell him that he _should_ be. No sense starting the water-works, again, if he could avoid them. Instead, he reached for the towel and wiped his chest dry and then turned it on the young man and wiped his face, noticing that those pretty eyes of his were red-rimmed and looked worn and ancient.

“Be quiet for a while,” Tony ordered him.

“Yes, Master.”

Peter was silent, and the older man kept an arm around him and the blankets pulled up over them even as he reached for his book, once more. With the boy’s cheek resting on his chest, it was warm and comfortable, even for the supreme commander.

“Can you read?”

“Yes, Master.”

That was a surprise, really. Uncommon enough for _officers_ to be literate, but for a youngster like his pet? Almost unheard of. Interesting enough that Tony looked down at him. He’d only asked to try and get the young man settled a little more, but now his interest was piqued.

“Really?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Where did you learn?”

“My father was a tutor, Master. I learned from him.”

Tony handed him the book.

“Read this.”

Distracted from his misery, Peter nodded, sitting up a little and shivering when the blankets fell from his shoulder and he lost the warmth coming from being pressed against Tony’s side. He opened the book, and started reading from the top of the page, his voice steady and surprising Tony when he didn’t stumble over any of the words – even the harder ones. When he was finished with the entire page, he started to hand it back, but Stark shook his head.

“No. Read to me for a while.”

It wasn't really that interesting; a book on historical figures and military campaigns, but Peter read it with ease. As he did, Tony put his head back down on his pillow, and ran his fingers lightly along the young man’s stomach, which made him tense, but only for a moment.

“Why aren’t you a tutor, like your father?” Tony finally asked, taking the book away as he began to grow sleepy. “Why did you choose to become a soldier?”

“I didn’t choose, Master,” Peter replied. “When I was twelve my parents and I were traveling in a merchant’s caravan to a large city and it was overtaken by bandits. They were killed with most of the others. Some of us were taken as prisoners and sold as slaves – if we were young and healthy. I went to a manor house not far from here and worked as a farm laborer, but was conscripted by the local milia when I turned sixteen and I became a soldier.”

“Not a very _good_ one, obviously,” Stark said, reaching over the boy to turn off the lamp that was on the stand by the bed. “Luckily for me.”

He settled in beside the boy, once more, and slid his large hand along Peter’s naked hip, cupping his rear and squeezing it as he debated if he was more tired or more eager for another go at his new pet.

“They didn’t listen to me, Master,” Peter said, defensively, stung by the insult added to all the injury already done to him that day. “If they _had_ , your army would have fallen the first day you showed up on the horizon.”

That wasn't going to be allowed to pass, of course. The words weren’t insulting, so Tony didn’t take offense to them, but the statement definitely warranted explanation. He shifted, leaning over him, again, and turning the lamp back on.

“What do you mean by that?”

Peter’s eyes were afraid, now, aware that he’d overstepped and almost certainly going to be punished for it.

“Nothing, Master… I’m sorry if it sounded discourteous.”

Tony frowned.

“Answer me.”

There was only a slight hesitation, and Tony realized it wasn't fear or uncertainty. The boy was formulating his response.

“Your men were spread in a long column. You went through the Bazon pass to arrive. An ambush from the top, using rocks and boulders that are already there, could have decimated forty or fifty percent of your men – and separated you from your supply line. You wouldn’t have been able to maintain the battle, and the keep’s defenders would have succeeded.”

He hadn’t used the word master, but Stark didn’t even notice.

“How did you know that?”

Peter gestured toward the book that was on the stand.

“It is a common campaign strategy. I read it, when I was much younger, and remembered.”

Tony had hesitated to bring his men through the pass for that very reason when they’d approached the small city. Only the fact that his scouts had guaranteed that no one was on the ridges for a possible ambush had convinced him to use that particular direction of travel.

He frowned, again.

“You read it?”

“Yes, Master.”

“Where?”

“The book was in my father’s collection.”

“And you remembered?”

“Yes, Master. I remember everything.”

Tony couldn’t hide the amazement in his expression – or the skepticism. He picked up the book, opening it and making sure that it wasn't the section the boy had read to him.

“How does the Pasier column work?”

“Two lines coming from either direction, with calvary in reserve to charge through the enemy line and disrupt their counter.”

“That’s incredible…” Telling Peter that he was right. Of course, he’d already known. “And you told your commanders to ambush my men?”

“I told my _corporal_ , Master…” Peter corrected. A mere soldier never got close enough to the commanders to actually talk to them. “He laughed and beat me for being a know it all.”

Stark shook his head and set the book aside.

“Luckily for me,” he said.

Not that it would have changed things; had he seen any sign of movement on the ridge, he would have come from a different direction and the keep still would have fallen. It just would have taken longer. But his pet was suddenly far more interesting than he’d initially thought. Not only was he delicious, but he was intelligent and a fledgling military genius.

He’d intended to simply use him for a few days for his own amusements and then hand him over to his men, or sell him. Now, however, he had every intention of keeping him and perhaps even using that brilliant mind to his own advantages. Of course, that meant that he’d have to win his loyalty – which wasn't something that he’d been too concerned with, before, when he’d been so rough with him. Otherwise the boy was more of a liability, and would have to be killed rather than be allowed to have a chance to stab Stark in the back at some later date.

The supreme commander smiled, and turned off the light, once more, but this time he didn’t return to his side of the bed. Since he was leaning over the boy, he simply ran his hand along that smooth skin, once more, and nudged Peter’s legs apart.

“One more time, my pet,” he whispered, leaning down and pressing a tender kiss unerringly against the boy’s ear. “Then you can rest for a while…”

Peter tensed, but didn’t struggle, waiting for the pain to begin. Instead, he was surprised when the older man’s hands ran along his body, almost tenderly, as his lips peppered kisses along his jaw. He moaned, softly, when Tony’s hand found his penis, and began fondling him, gently at first, and then with more intensity when he felt Peter responding, swelling in his grip.

“You like that?” Tony whispered in the dark, his lips finding Peter’s nipple.

“Master…”

“Answer me, pet,” Tony said.

“Yes, Master…”

“Good.”

He continued stroking him, enjoying the soft moans in the dark and the way the boy began to squirm under him. Not in fear, this time, or in pain, but in pleasure. Tony’s lips were delicate as he worked his way along Peter’s skin and he was pleased that the darkness hid his smirk when he felt that hard rod of flesh in his hand suddenly seize as the boy gave a soft grunt and climaxed, smearing Tony’s hand and both of their bellies.

“Well done, pet,” Tony crooned, and now he shifted positions, putting his much bigger body between Peter’s legs and harvesting the boy’s own cum to slick his cock. The older man slid his finger into the boy's ass, eliciting a pained moan at the invasion. “Shhh…” Stark whispered. “It’s fine.”

He was certainly sore, but Tony knew how to force pleasure as well as pain. His finger probed the boy, searching, and suddenly Peter cried out in surprise, and Tony’s smile widened. That was the spot. He murmured approval and worked Peter’s body, stretching him a little, this time, all the while making the young man writhe under him. Only when he was hard, once more, did Tony move his hand and guide the head of his cock to Peter’s still tight but better prepared opening. Slick with the boy’s cum, there was still a grunt of discomfort that greeted his initial thrusts, but it wasn't a pained moan, and Tony’s hand wrapped around Peter’s cock, once more, stroking him in time with his thrusts.

“Such a good fit for me…” the commander whispered into the dark, having no trouble hearing the pleasure he was doling out. “So tight. So perfect for your master.”

Peter moaned, and his orgasm was intense when it hit; the difference between the first time and this time so profound that he couldn’t help himself. He clung to Tony, his hands holding his master tight, while his legs went around the bigger man’s hips, holding him close.

“Master… _please_ …”

It took a lot longer, this time, of course, since Stark had already had a couple of orgasms that night, but the release came, eventually, and he shoved himself deep, filling Peter’s bowels with his hot seed and continuing to thrust himself, lazily, in and out of him while his cock jerked and his balls emptied in the best of ways.

He collapsed on the boy for a moment, crushing him under his weight, although neither noticed, and then sighed and pulled out, only then returning to the other side of the bed, and leaving Peter panting and his heart pounding. Stark pulled the blankets up around them, once more, but it was Peter who snuggled up beside him when he settled and stilled.

The dark hid the older man’s triumphant smile, and he gathered the boy against his side, crooning words of encouragement and comfort until he felt him fall asleep next to him.

It was a start.

He had something even better in mind for the next day, however. An object lesson for the rest, but his pet should find it interesting, as well.

The commander closed his eyes, buried his face in the boy’s hair, and went to sleep.


	4. 4

Stark woke early.

It was habit for him to do so, and even the warm body cuddled up beside him wasn't enough to make him sleep in. He had a busy day ahead of him. He stretched, the motion waking Peter, who moaned, softly as he shifted, still more asleep than awake, and his actions unguarded because of it.

“Sore?” Tony asked, reaching out and sliding his hand along Peter’s side, ending at his ass and cupping it, possessively.

“Yes, Master.”

The boy watched him, uncertainly.

“Question, pet?”

“I was wondering what I’m supposed to do, Master.”

“When I’m not around, you mean?”

Couldn’t have his cock down the boy’s throat every minute of the day, after all. _Unfortunately_.

“Yes, Master.”

“You do whatever I tell you to do,” Tony told him, pushing the blankets back, exposing himself, and taking hold of Peter’s hair to guide the boy’s face down into his lap. “In the morning, you start my day with your mouth on my cock. If you manage to wake up before I do and begin without being told, you’ll probably make it through the day without a beating.”

Peter didn’t reply, having already started sucking on the older man’s cock, lips and tongue eager to please and get him off as quickly as possible. Stark wasn't all that horny, really – his cock was actually a little sore from all the recent activity – but this was a lesson for the boy, so he watched with clinical detachment as Peter worked him with enthusiasm if not much skill, even trying to force himself to swallow Tony’s cock down his throat despite gagging himself to do it. Eventually he had him hard and throbbing and another handful of hair pulled the boy off of him, forcing him to look up at him.

“Enough, pet…”

“Yes, Master.”

“Come here.” Tony pulled the boy into his arms, positioning him on his lap so that he was straddling his hips, his aroused cock pinned between Peter’s belly and his own. “Kiss me,” the older man ordered. “My chest, and my neck and my body. Taste my skin with your tongue and your lips. Run your hands along me like I did to you last night in the dark.”

Peter did as he was told, leaning forward, which slid Stark’s cock against his belly, but ignoring that in favor of peppering the older man’s chest and shoulder’s with kisses. He didn’t press his lips against his master’s, but the man’s chin and cheeks and neck were all tasted and licked. Tony growled, and finally had to stop him. He easily picked Peter up, even from a sitting position like he was in, and flipped the boy onto his back, moving on him and watching as his cock slid against Peter’s thigh and then against his cock, which Tony was amused – although not surprised – to find was fully aroused. For such a tiny thing when soft, the boy’s erection was impressive.

Peter’s legs were already open to accommodate Tony’s body, but the boy shifted, opening them further, and Stark made an approving noise at the action, but didn’t move to take his pet’s ass.

“Not this morning, pet,” he murmured, watching his cock leave a trail of precum along Peter’s belly. “I need all my stamina and seed for this evening.”

“Yes, Master…”

Stark thought he detected disappointment in the young man’s tone, and leaned down to bite another mark onto Peter’s chest.

“The master of this keep has a daughter.”

“Yes. Mirah, Master.”

“My men caught him attempting to smuggle her out of the place a week ago. She _was_ going to be a bargaining tool if the battle went to the shitter. Now that we’ve won, however, she’s going to become an object lesson for him.”

He could see that Peter understood, immediately, which surprised him. The young man was definitely a student of some of the same books and lessons that Tony, himself, had read.

“Yes, Master.”

“Explain it to me.”

Might as well make sure he wasn't imagining the boy’s intelligence.

“You’re going to have her,” Master. Either in front of him, or not, either way would be equally terrible for him. To watch you take her, or to hear her being taken. Both would be disheartening and would teach him the folly of resistance.”

Tony smiled.

“Very good, Pet.” He looked down between them, again. “It would be ideal if I got her pregnant, as well, so the lesson continues even when I’m not here, but that’s a shot in the dark, since I have no intention of laying with her every day until it catches. So I’ll make sure to be thorough, tonight – and maybe tomorrow – and then I’ll deliver her back to her father with my scent still on her, and my seed still smearing her thighs.”

“Yes, Master.”

Tony patted Peter’s cheek, then, gently – in reward for being so intelligent – and got off of him, reluctantly.

“My aide is outside the door. Call him in.”

Peter scrambled to his feet, rolling out of the bed, and left the bedroom, still undressed and bearing a myriad of bruises from his master’s attentions. A moment later, he returned with Tony’s aide and stood to the side, out of the way.

“Yes, my Lord?”

“Breakfast, William. For two. Then I’m going to be assessing the keep. While I’m gone, I want this place cleaned up. My new pet needs a bath, and a massage, and then I want you to personally deliver him to me in the manor hall at noon, wearing clean clothing appropriate for the lowliest soldier in this army.”

“Yes, my Lord. I’ll take care of it.”

“I know.” Tony smirked, looking at Peter. “You’re going to help me hand out another object lesson, Pet,” he said, practically purring. “And I think you’ll enjoy it.”

Peter wasn't so sure, of course, but that wasn't response that was expected, and he was smart enough to know it.

“Yes, Master.”

><><><><><><>

When noon arrived, Stark was in the large main room that served as the keep’s great hall. He’d spent the morning looking over his own men and making sure that the mercenaries weren’t getting out of control now that the battle was won. They weren’t, luckily for their commander, who would have found himself on the receiving end of a beating if Tony had found a single civilian killed by one of them now that the fighting was done.

He walked in the door, and looked around. Gathered in the room were his highest ranking colonels and generals. They were standing along one wall. Also gathered were the highest ranking commanders of the defeated army. They were all bound, but were standing along the opposite wall. Interspersed among them were soldiers of Tony’s military, all watching the proceedings about to commence.

In the middle, there was a space. In that space was the highest ranking commander of the defeated army to have survived the battle. The man was probably fifty, with a deeply tanned face and mean pig eyes that watched everything going on around him with uncertainty. Not surprisingly, since Stark had ordered him stripped and put on his knees with his hands tied behind his back. His body was tough and lean, and there was a rod between his knees, keeping him off balance.

Tony stepped up in front of him, allowing his expression to be smug.

“General Jung. How nice of you to come to my party.”

“Fuck you, Stark.”

Tony didn’t hit him, although he knew the man expected him to. He smirked, instead, and looked at his aide, who just walked into the room. The young man nodded, and Tony turned his attention back to the general.

“That wasn't very polite.”

“Just kill me and get it over with.”

“I have another idea…” Tony made a gesture to his aide and the man turned and made a gesture of his own. A moment later, Peter walked into the room, dressed in homespun trousers and shirt, with bare feet and a simple belt holding his pants up. His hair was combed and his face was clean. He looked uncertain, but walked over to stand beside Tony as the aide had ordered him to. “Do you know this boy?” Tony asked the general.

“No.”

“Of course you don’t. He’s the lowest of the low. Practically dirt. Certainly beneath your notice.”

The general looked suspicious, clearly not sure where this was going. Probably expecting that Stark would have the boy kill him, as an object lesson, rather than doing it, himself.

“Get on with it.”

He’d die with dignity. Especially in front of his men.

Tony nodded, gesturing for Peter to move and take his place in front of the kneeling general.

“Take off your shirt, Pet.”

Peter complied, immediately, and the shirt fell to the floor. The men assembled all saw the bruises and the love bites, but no one said anything, watching silently.

“Now, drop your pants.”

The boy undid his belt, which was all it really took for the trousers to fall from his skinny hips. The general caught on, then, and his eyes narrowed.

“No.”

“Oh, yes,” Tony said. “You’re going to suck Peter’s cock. Right now. And you’re going to be enthusiastic about it, because you're making it up to him that you didn’t listen to his advice about defeating my army before we even arrived. Look where it got him.”

“I don’t know what you're talking about.” The man was leaning back, unconsciously, away from Peter’s groin. “He never said anything to me-“

“He said it to his corporal, and that man is dead. The sins of the men become the responsibility of their commanders. Suck him, Jung, or I’ll have your jaw broken and your mouth held open and I’ll shove his cock down your throat, myself.”

The man could see that the threat was real, but even then he hesitated, licking his lips as he tried to find someway out. There wasn't one, of course. He leaned forward, but Tony grabbed his hair with his hand, holding him back.

“If you even _think_ about using your teeth on him, I’ll have them all pulled out and every man in my army – and yours – will use your mouth as a urinal until you’re pissing other men’s piss from every pore of your body. Just so we’re clear.”

The general didn’t respond, but Tony gestured for Peter to move up, closer, pressing his limp penis against the man’s lips.

“Help him out, Pet,” Tony said, watching. “Hold his hair with one hand and feed him that cock with the other.”

Peter did as he was told, taking a handful of the general’s hair in his left hand and guiding the head of his penis to the general’s mouth, which opened to receive it. The boy half expected to have it bitten off, despite the threat, but the general had clearly decided a minute’s degradation was better than the other option and he started tonguing Peter’s cock, noisily, sucking it one moment and lapping at it the next. Peter sighed, silently, at the sight and the sensation, and to Tony’s delight, his hips began to move as his cock swelled, eventually, as the blowjob became more intense.

“Fuck his mouth, Pet,” Tony encouraged. “As hard as you can.”

Peter did, driving his cock into the man’s mouth, harder, now, thrusting and hitting the back of his mouth and then down his throat as he swelled more and more with each passing moment. It wasn't immediate; Peter wasn't used to being blown at all – and certainly not in front of a large crowd – but the pleasure soon overrode all else and he closed his eyes and fucked the general’s mouth, ignoring the gagging sounds the man was making as he slammed himself deep, repeatedly, urged on by his master, who was watching it all, intently.

“That’s it,” Tony told him. “Cum down his throat.”

He did, then, as if the words were the release that he’d been waiting for, and Tony’s hand went to Peter’s ass, forcing the boy’s hips even further into the thrust as Peter climaxed, driving his cock and his cum down the general’s throat, gagging him. Peter moaned, his cock jerking and spasming, and Tony smirked at the blissed out expression on the boy’s face.

“Very good,” he said, when the boy finally pulled out, cock still dripping the man’s saliva and his own cum. “How did that feel?”

“Good, Master,” Peter replied, knowing that was what Tony wanted to hear.

Stark looked at the general, whose face was red and eyes were wet.

“Hear that? You made him feel good. Suck him hard, again, and we’ll let him return the favor and make _you_ feel good, too.”

“What? I-“

Tony stepped back, taking Peter with him, although the boy almost tripped over the pants that were pooled at his feet. His men moved forward, carrying a bale of hay. As Stark and Peter watched, the general was positioned with his bare stomach across the bale and his ass in the air, facing toward all of his men and his knees spread apart.

Stark stepped forward, even as Peter grabbed another handful of hair and guided his cock back to the man’s lips.

“You're going to suck him off, again, Jung,” he ordered. “Get him good and hard – and a little slick, if you prefer – because he’s going to fuck you the rest of the afternoon, until you're full of boy cum and it’s leaking out your nose.”

The man didn’t have a chance to respond. His mouth was full of Peter’s already swelling cock.

Tony ran his fingers along the boy’s ass.

“I expect you to fuck him hard,” he said, loud enough for the general and all the men to hear. “I want him crying and begging for more. Understood?”

“Yes, Master,” Peter replied, watching his cock vanish in the man’s mouth.

“Good.” Tony patted his back. “Enjoy yourself. I’ll expect you back in my room at dinner.”

“Yes, Master.”


	5. 5

When Peter was returned to the temporary quarters that Stark had taken over, he was once more dressed in only the loincloth. The aide accompanied him, saluting smartly when they arrived, and gesturing for the boy to go to his knees beside where Tony was seated at the table, just beginning to start eating.

“How did it go?” the commander asked, speaking to the aide, but looking down at Peter and brushing his fingers along the boy’s jaw, sliding his thumb along his lower lip in greeting.

“Four times, my Lord,” he was told. "And the lesson continues,” his aide advised. “When we left Jung, he was servicing one of my own lieutenants, and a colonel was taking him from behind – with others lined up and ready to have a piece of him.”

Tony nodded.

“Good. The girl?”

“Will be delivered up to you within the hour. She’s being prepared.”

Stark looked at Peter, noticing the damp hair and cleaned skin as evidence that he’d been bathed.

“You’ll stay out here when she arrives, my pet,” he ordered. “I intend for her to have a very busy evening, and I won’t require your services.”

“Yes, Master.”

The commander was pleased to see that the boy didn’t look exceptionally happy about that. He ignored him for the moment, though, turning back to his aide.

“Was he fed?”

“And bathed, my Lord. Another massage, also, to keep him limber for you.”

“Very well. You’re dismissed.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

The aide left, and Tony put his hand on the top of Peter’s head.

“How was it?”

The boy knew he didn’t mean the bath or the massage.

“Good, Master.”

“You looked like you were enjoying yourself when I left you.”

“Yes, Master.”

“But it could have been better?” Tony asked, catching the lack of enthusiasm in Peter’s tone.

“I’ve never done it, before, Master,” Peter said. “I liked it.”

“Are you sore?”

“A little, Master.”

More like a _lot_ , really.

Tony smirked. He looked exhausted.

“How could it have been _better_ , Pet? A general was sucking your cock.”

Peter opened his mouth, and then visibly clamped down on whatever he’d been intending to say.

“I don’t know, Master.”

Stark scowled.

“You’re _lying_.”

“I don’t want to offend, Master.”

“What were you going to say?”

The boy reddened, looking down at his hands, which were on his thighs.

“I would have liked it to be _you_.”

Tony slapped him so hard that he was jolted. His head snapped back and a red handprint immediately flared up on his cheek.

“Don’t forget yourself, pet,” he warned, as Peter’s eyes watered from the blow. “You fucked a general as an object lesson to the _general_ – not because you deserved him.”

“I’m sorry, Master.” Peter stayed where he was, eyes bright with tears. “I didn’t mean it as an insult. Only that I wanted to feel your mouth on me.”

Stark grunted, and ignored the boy, turning his attention to his meal. He’d had a long day and was hungry. And now he was _annoyed_ , since he’d found that he’d almost been looking forward to Peter’s return, and wasn't going to be able to play with him that night, since the girl was coming and she would require all of his attention once she arrived.

As he ate, he watched Peter, who hadn’t moved from his spot at Tony’s feet. Clearly waiting for another blow to fall. Or _worse_. Tony finished eating, wiped his mouth and hands, and got to his feet.

“Stack the dishes for the servants to pick up,” he ordered, going into the bedroom.

Behind him, he heard Peter doing what he’d been told. Tony undressed and traded his uniform for a simple robe, in preparation for his visitor. He walked back out into the main room and found Peter was done, and was now on his knees, once more. He walked over and sat on the couch, opening his legs and gesturing wordlessly toward his midsection. The boy scurried over, and knelt between his knees, pushing the robe aside and immediately beginning to suckle on Tony’s cock.

“Just get me hard and _keep_ me hard,” he ordered.

Peter nodded, making a noise that may have been agreement, but his mouth too filled, just then, to reply. Tony slid his hand along the younger man’s hair, fingers sifting through the wavy locks, but not grabbing the customary handhold to force himself deeper. He wasn't in any hurry, since he had no intention of emptying himself into the boy, just then.

When he was thick and throbbing, and his cock was nicely sheened with Peter’s saliva, he pulled the boy off, admiring his handiwork, and Peter’s swollen lips – although he felt just the slightest pang of guilt at the sight of the bruise that was forming on the boy’s pale cheek. Perhaps he had overreacted a little? The thought made him scowl, and Peter bent his head, submissively, misunderstand the glare.

Whatever Tony might have said or done was interrupted by a diffident knock on the door.

“Answer it.”

Peter hurried to his feet to obey and stepped aside to allow Tony’s aide to enter the room, followed by a young woman that the boy had seen a few times – from a distance. At the time, she’d been cool and haughty, wrapped in the mantle of her father’s wealth and authority over everyone around them. Now, however, she was pale and clearly afraid. Rather than the expensive silk dresses that Peter had seen her parading around in – even to the most casual of occasions – she was wearing a simple homespun shift that did nothing to hide her curves – and barely reached low enough to cover her ample rear.

Stark’s smile was purposefully predatory as he ran his gaze over her body.

“Tonight’s entertainment has arrived,” he murmured. “Good.”

“She’s been bathed and fed, my Lord,” his aide reported.

“You’re dismissed.”

The aide left, but Peter stayed where he was, watching as Tony walked around the young woman, who was trembling in fear. She probably hadn’t missed the warleader’s erection where it poked out from his loosely tied robe, and she wasn't naïve enough to not know what to expect.

“You will not speak to me,” Stark told her. “Unless I tell you to. Understand?”

She nodded, and was wise enough not to say anything aloud.

Tony pulled the simple dress off her in one motion, eliciting a startled moan of fear and another smile. She was young but well formed and he ran a hand along her breast, tweaking the nipple and making her flinch.

“She’s pretty, isn’t she, Pet?”

Peter nodded.

“Yes, Master.”

Tony’s hand slid down her belly and ended between her legs, and the girl trembled even harder.

“You’re in for a long night,” Tony told her, maliciously. He looked at Peter. “Stay here, Pet,” he ordered. “I don’t require your company this evening.”

“Yes, Master.”

He kept his expression carefully blank as he watched his master lead the woman into the bed chamber. Since Tony didn’t close the door, Peter had no problem hearing Tony’s command to her to suck him, and almost flinched when he heard the slap that signified she hadn’t complied quickly enough. A soft sob that was choked off when he undoubtedly shoved his cock into her mouth, and then the sound of gagging.

Uncertain what he was supposed to be doing while his Master amused himself with his object lesson, Peter knelt at the side of the sofa, and waited for an order. He heard the slurpy sound of Tony’s cock being pulled from her mouth, and a startled cry, followed by several more slaps. A moment later a different cry and a grunt of triumph told the boy that his master was well and truly involved in his task, now, and he closed his eyes, leaning his head against the seat of the sofa and listening to the noises coming from the bedroom.

The rhythmic, wet, slapping sounds punctuated by soft moans of pain and the occasional slap as his Master spanked her as he fucked her was almost hypnotic, and Peter found himself drifting off, worn out by his own very physical day. He fell asleep still on his knees and didn’t even hear when Tony climaxed the first time and immediately shoved his cock back down her throat, demanding a repeat performance.

><><><><><

It was extremely late when a very satiated Tony Stark came out of the bedroom, pulling on his robe and needing a chance to stretch his legs; already bored of the weeping young woman who had proven to be a virgin, but not a very exciting one. He’d had her twice and intended to wake her sometime in the middle of the night and take her again, just for good measure, but he wanted to check on his real prize in between those times.

He saw Peter sleeping where he knelt beside the sofa. The boy's cheek was resting on the couch, but the rest of him was in an awkward position that made Tony wonder how he’d even managed to fall asleep like that in the first place. He walked silently over to the boy, watching him sleep for a moment, and feeling a wave of something ridiculously soft wash through him at the sight. Luckily for Peter, he was asleep and didn’t notice, so Tony didn’t have to slap him down.

Instead, the older man leaned down and carefully gathered the sleeping boy into his arms. Peter roused at the first touch, startled and immediately afraid that he’d done something wrong.

“Shhh, Pet,” Tony crooned, pressing a reassuring kiss against his temple. “Close your eyes…”

Peter did as he was told, too sleepy to be completely alert. Sleepy enough that he leaned into the strong embrace of the man who was holding him and brushed his lips against Tony’s neck, just at his jawline and under the carefully trimmed facial hair.

“Master…”

He was already almost asleep, again, Stark realized with amusement. He hesitated, wanting to boot the girl out of his bed and replace her with Peter, so he could cuddle and hold the boy all night as they slept, but that wouldn’t do to continue the object lesson – and besides, the bedding was fouled by their activities. He wouldn’t soil his precious by putting him on those dirty sheets.

Instead, he settled him on the sofa, and Peter made a noise of satisfaction as his head was guided to a pillow that made Tony smile, again. He watched, waiting to see if those lovely eyes would open for him, but when they didn’t, he pulled a throw blanket from the back of the couch and covered him as well as he could with the scanty cloth. Luckily, the boy wasn't that big. A gentle kiss that never would have happened if Peter wasn't asleep, and Tony left him to his rest, returning to his bed, and the young woman in it.

He’d wake her up and make her pay for keeping him from Peter’s ass.


	6. 6

The next morning, Tony walked out into the main room and was somewhat surprised to see that the boy was still asleep on the sofa where he’d settled him several hours before. Or maybe he shouldn’t be, he decided, walking over and looking down at him, watching him sleep and studying him for the first time, now that he wasn't aware of the scrutiny.

He looked exhausted, really, even with his eyes closed and his usually tense body limp with sleep. The bruise Tony had put on his cheek the day before was glaring, although the supreme commander knew that it wasn't as vivid as some of the hickeys that had been sucked into his skin. Those had been placed there in passion; the bruise had been in a fit of anger. Tony started to reach down and brush his fingers against the porcelain skin of the boy, intending to wake him, when he was interrupted by a soft moan from the bedroom.

The girl was recovering from a final hard fuck only half an hour earlier, and Tony was spent – at least for a while. He scowled, and moved to the door, wearing only the robe, once more. His aide was waiting outside and snapped to attention when the door opened.

“Good morning, my Lord. How may I serve?”

Tony gestured for the man to be quiet as he moved to allow him to enter the room.

“Take the girl back to her father’s quarters – _don’t_ clean her up. Understood?”

“Yes, my Lord.” The aide’s voice was soft, in deference to Stark’s demand for silence and the fact that the commander was barely speaking above a whisper. Almost certainly to avoid waking the boy sleeping on the couch and covered in the thin blanket. “Did you wish me to pass on any message?”

Stark smirk.

“He’ll get the message when he sees her.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

“Breakfast is in order,” Tony added. “I’m hungry. Have the bedchamber cleaned and new bedding – and warn the servants that my pet is sleeping and if they wake him I’ll cut off their ears.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

If the man was surprised by the consideration being paid to the boy, he wisely kept it to himself. He waited for a moment to make sure there weren’t any other orders forthcoming, and then saluted and left, silently. Stark walked to the bedroom, looking down at the young woman who was sprawled, naked, on the bed.

Her body was covered in love bites and hickeys – the majority of them concentrated on her breasts, but there were bruises on her belly and thighs, which also glistened with smeared cum and other fluids. Tony had made a point of pulling partially out during his final climax, just to make sure he could smear his seed along her thighs in white gobs that were even now drying where he’d left it. He’d told her, pointedly, that she wasn't allowed to clean herself off, and now she looked up at him with dazed fear, clearly anticipating that he would part her thighs, or her lips, and invade her young body once again.

“My aide is going to take you to your father’s quarters,” he told her. “You’ll make sure to tell him everything that was done to you last night – or I’ll make sure my men give you a repeat performance. Understood?”

She nodded, fearfully.

“Get up.”

The young noblewoman did as she was told, scrambling stiffly to her feet, her body obviously aching.

“You will wait for him out in the hall.” He raised a hand when she reached for the shift. “Your present attire is fitting.”

She reddened at the thought of being on display for anyone to see, but she started to turn and leave, recognizing a dismissal when she saw one. He caught her by the hair, eliciting a startled yelp that made him scowl.

“You forgot to thank me.”

She paled.

“Thank you, my Lord.”

He waved her away, but followed her as she left the bedroom and walked silently across the living room area to the door, letting herself out. As she was leaving, servants were arriving, all of them being incredibly silent and watching the sleeping figure on the couch, clearly afraid to be the one to make the noise that woke him. Tony sat at the table as they served him a hearty breakfast of ham, eggs and fresh bread, while a small army of them went into the bedroom, stripped all the bedding and remade the bed.

“Do you wish a bath, master?” one asked, very softly.

“Yes. Prepare the tub. As hot as you can get it without me burning my ass off.”

The servant nodded and they started filling the tub with water heated in another room and ferried into the smaller room to be dumped into the bath. By the time Tony was finished with his meal, the head servant announced in a soft whisper that the bath was ready.

Stark dismissed him, and they left. Tony waited until the door closed behind the last servant, picked up a bread roll and walked over to the sofa, seating himself at Peter’s head. He ran his fingers along the boy’s cheek, gently, and watched as his pet slowly opened his eyes, and looked around, sleepily. When he saw Tony, he started to scramble to his feet, but a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“Stay there.”

“Yes, Master.”

Peter put his hand on Tony’s thigh, hesitantly reaching for the hem of the robe, watching to see if that was what was expected of him, but Tony pushed his hand away.

“No, Pet.” He said, smirking. “I’m sore and tired. The last thing I need after last night is for you to try to get me hard. My cock would just fall off, I think.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Besides, I need a bath. I reek.”

Peter nodded, not vocalizing what he was nodding about; whether he agreed with Tony, or simply was signifying that he’d heard him.

“May I bathe you, Master?”

“That’s your job, Pet,” Tony confirmed, moving his hand, now, so Peter could get up.

The boy watched him, waiting for him to get to his feet, as well, and when he did, Peter untied the robe, allowing it to fall from Tony’s shoulders. He slung it over the back of the sofa and followed Tony, respectfully, into the bathroom. The older man gestured for him to get in first, but Peter had already been pulling off his loincloth, letting it fall to the floor. He stepped into the tub, hissing softly at how warm the water was, and then sat down on the end, with his back against the slanted edge of the bath and parted his legs so Tony could join him.

Which he did, immediately, leaning back against Peter’s belly and chest with a soft sigh of content.

Peter took up a washcloth, still somewhat sleepy, and started with Tony’s shoulders, admiring the play of skin over muscled whenever the older man shifted, even a little. He caressed as he washed, lathering the skin that he could reach, easily, stretching a little to try and wash his master’s belly, although part way down his chest was as far as he could reach, and Tony didn’t seem to be in any hurry to let him up so he could move to the front of him and wash those places he couldn’t reach. Instead, he was lazing against Peter’s embrace, allowing the hot water and the company to relax him, completely.

Or as completely as a soldier like Tony Stark ever could.

Peter set the cloth aside when he had him as clean as he could, and leaned forward, just a little. Greatly daring, he rested his cheek on Tony’s shoulder from behind, arms slipping under the bigger man’s armpits on either side and sliding along his chest, almost idly. He made a contented noise that was barely audible, and only because his lips were so close to Stark’s ear. Tony caught one hand, guiding it along his chest, using Peter’s hand as an extension of his own. He paused at his nipple, pressing Peter’s palm against it, and the boy understood what he intended and began caressing it and the skin around it. Then he brought his other hand around to the other nipple, caressing, lightly pinching and teasing the older man’s skin and nipples as he closed his eyes and enjoyed the tenderness of a moment that he knew wouldn’t last, so it was something to savor while he could.

He enjoyed it too much, perhaps, and as he caressed Tony, he was thinking of those big hands on his body, and how they had forced so many pleasures from him, before. Though about the caresses, and the nibbles, and then remembered his master parting his legs and sliding himself into him. The gentle sex had been so much more wonderful than the harsh rape, and Peter’s hips began moving, idly, brushing the head of his cock against the rough little hairs on the small of Stark’s back, rutting against him from behind.

Tony didn’t miss it, of course. He was amused, and pleased, that his pet was so needy. It was the whole idea, really, to make him look at his master as a source of pleasure – despite the pain that Stark was so willing to dole out. He wanted the boy eager. Was gratified to feel that hard cock sliding along his back, moving back and forth against his skin, hearing Peter’s soft whines of pleasure and need in his ear, despite the boy trying to suppress them.

Of course, there wasn't a chance in hell that he was going to get hard and screw the boy – not after his fuckfest the night before with the girl. He was vigorous, true, but that would have been asking a lot of him. He didn’t reprimand his little slave, though, for being horny. The boy was at an age where he could probably go over and over – despite the way he’d fucked general Jung the day before.

The warlord scowled at the memory of watching the captured general sucking on the boy’s eager cock, but his hand brushed Peter’s, catching it and bringing it to his lips to press a kiss against the palm.

“So eager for me, Pet?” he asked, allowing his amusement to seep into his tone to keep him from becoming afraid and maybe halting his activities.

They weren’t so forceful that he had to worry the boy was thinking that he was dominating the older man; they were simply the actions of a morning wood popping up and demanding attention. Who knew what he was fantasizing about as his hands slid along Tony’s chest?

Peter did hesitate, but Tony’s hand squeezed his own, lightly, in encouragement, and the boy realized what he was doing was going to be permitted. His hips continued their motions, and even increased a little, at the thought that his master could feel what he was doing and was letting him do it. Was letting him slide his sensitive cock head along his skin, over and over. Was right there in his arms, his large body pressed against him, Peter’s hands running freely over it, exploring every part that he could reach, allowing the hot water and the scented soap to calm most of him, while his midsection only grew harder and harder.

“Master… please…” he whispered, turning his head and kissing his ear – which made Stark groan, softly.

The plea was almost desperate; the boy was too pinned to be able to actually do more than rut against him. There was no way he’d climax with the very little motion Tony’s body allowed in their position.

“You need me, Pet?” Tony crooned, catching Peter’s hand, again, and nipping the palm.

“Yes…” Peter’s cock was so hard. So ready. So anxious to chase his release. “Yes, Master.”

The commander leaned forward, almost lazily, and twisted a little. He used his grip on Peter’s hand to bring the young man around him, and Peter went, willingly, allowing Tony to pull him down into his lap, where his master’s arms encircled him and guided his head against his chest. He felt Tony’s hand find his shaft, then, and the older man began to stroke him, lazily, enjoying the sounds that the action forced from the boy.

“So hard, Pet,” Tony murmured, approvingly. “My precious plaything.” His hand moved faster, now, more forcefully, and Peter responded by swelling even further at the touch. “Begging for my touch, aren’t you?”

“Yes… yes… please…”

Tony turned his head and nipped the boy’s ear.

“ _Master_ , Pet,” he reminded him, squeezing his cock almost painfully hard in reprimand. “Even in your most inner thoughts.”

“Yes, Master,” Peter moaned, clinging to his as best he could with the angle Tony had him in. His cock was aching for the release his climax would bring. If only his master would allow it. If only he would keep doing what he was doing. “Master… _yes_ … Master…”

Stark murmured his approval, his lips sucking a new mark into Peter’s neck, under his jaw. He stroked him harder, now, his hand pumping his cock, eyes watching as Peter tensed and precum smeared his already wet hand.

“Cum for me, Pet,” he whispered, harshly. “Show me how good it can feel to be obedient to your master’s wishes. You can do it. Cum for me.”

Encouraged by the words, Peter did just that. He cried out, softly, in his release, and his cock spasmed in Tony’s grasp, a thick rope of cum shooting up into the air, only to fall back down on them. Followed immediately by another, and then another, as Peter emptied his balls into the humid air of the bathing room. The boy jerked in Tony’s powerful embrace, and the older man continued to stroke him through the orgasm, talking dirty to him, but reminding him even as he felt the most intense pleasure in his life, that it was he that was allowing it. Only Tony could let him have such pleasure.

Only his master.

Peter sighed when he was finished and collapsed against his master’s chest, head coming to rest just under Tony’s chin. The older man rinsed his hand clear of the boy’s cum, and caressed his belly, savoring the way Peter trembled in his release and the aftermath, and feeling a tiny shiver of his own at the way the boy turned his head to press his lips against his chest.

After a very long time, both of them wallowing in the touch and closeness of the other, Tony felt Peter’s hand slide almost shyly toward his own cock, the boy shifting to give himself access.

“Do I suck you, Master?” he asked, sounding disappointed when he found that jerking him off hadn’t aroused the larger man.

His cock was still limp, and ached enough that even Peter’s careful touch pained him, somewhat.

“Not at the moment, Pet,” he said, catching that hand and bringing it back into Peter’s lap, instead, and holding him with both arms. “Later, you can.”

“Thank you, Master.”

For the promise of what was to come, or for what he’d just done for him, Tony didn’t know – and honestly didn’t care. He shook his head, and another kiss was bestowed on the top of the boy’s head.

“You’re going to finish bathing me,” he said. “Then I’m going to go to bed.”

“I can join you, Master?”

They both heard Peter’s stomach growl, echoing loudly in the still of the room and Tony chuckled.

“No.” If Peter was in his bed, he wouldn’t get the rest that he needed. He’d be far too tempted to nudge those legs open and fuck him, and he really was much too sore for that, just then. “You’re going to have breakfast – I left you some on the table – and then you can get dressed and look around.”

“Outside?”

“Why not? You think you have a military mindset, right? Look at my fortifications – from a distance – and be prepared to tell me how I have them set up, and what, if anything, you would do differently. Inform my aide what I’ve ordered you to do, so he can get you proper clothing.”

“Yes, Master.”

Peter didn’t argue, although he certainly sounded like he wanted to stay by Tony’s side all day. His stomach growled, again, and Tony ran a fond hand along Peter’s belly.

“Finish my bath, Pet.”

“Yes, Master.”

It was a full minute, though, before he actually moved out of Stark’s embrace – and Tony was reluctant to allow him to go.


	7. 7

Tony spent his morning in bed, asleep. When he woke, feeling refreshed and ready to start his day – although it was much later than he usually did – he worked on correspondences between the sultan and some of the other higher ranking officials. The news of his victory had reached his benefactor, and he closeted himself with a few of the on-site colonels to discuss when to hand the defeated city over to the sultan’s governors now that things were starting to settle a little and the city was nearly secure.

He’d eaten his lunch with his officers and had allowed the topic to drift a bit. Some of the men were speculating where they might be sent, next, when a motion at the door made Stark turn to look and he saw his aide hurrying in, looking worried.

“What is it?” he asked without preamble as the man walked over to his spot at the head of the table.

“There’s been an incident, my Lord,” the aide said. “Between several of the mercenaries and two of our men.”

“Why bother me with it?” Tony asked, annoyed a little confused, since his aide knew better than to bother him with something trivial. “Find out who started it and take whatever measures are needed to make reparations – or get retribution.”

Depending on who was at fault. His men knew better than to start fights with the mercenaries. Tony was a firm believer in discipline and that men who didn’t have it were a reflection of their officers. Which was why he was so tough on his people when something happened like that.

“It wasn’t just them,” the aide told him. “Your… Peter was involved, as well.”

“Peter?”

His pet?

“Yes, my Lord. There have been some serious injuries, and one of the mercenaries is dead.”

“And Peter?”

“He’s badly hurt, my Lord.”

Tony lurched to his feet.

“Show me where.”

Stark followed his aide, as did the men in the room who had rank enough to go where they wanted, when they wanted. In this case, if it involved their men, they would need to know what had happened as well – especially if the soldiers involved were men directly under one of them, specifically.

The aide led them to one of the nearby houses that had been taken over to be used as an infirmary for their wounded. In the living room area three people were being cared for. Two were hulking men with the demeanor of the typical soldier under Stark’s command. Tough, fit and disciplined. He didn’t recognize either of them, but knew their type. Both were sitting upright, but it was clear from the injuries – mainly cuts and bruises, and one broke nose – that there had been a scuffle.

His pet wasn't sitting up, Tony saw, immediately. Peter had been put on an examination table and he was unconscious. Blood matted his hair, his face was badly bruised and when Stark approached and pulled back the blanket he’d been covered in, he saw that the bruises went all along the boy’s naked body. There was a rope burn along Peter’s neck, and both hands were heavily bandaged from the forearm down.

“What the hell happened?” he asked, looking for a spot on the boy that he could touch, and not finding one, just then.

One of the soldiers looked over at him, holding a wet, cold, cloth against his face like the healer had ordered. Stark saw that his eye was puffy.

“We caught a group of mercenaries trying to have entertainment with him, my Lord,” the man said. “Me and Hayden just got off patrol, and we heard yelling and laughing in the horse barn. We went to investigate and they had the boy strung up by his neck and his hands, naked. They was telling him that if he was good enough for the sultan’s best general, then he was probably barely good enough for them. He was fighting them, but there was five of them and just the one of him – and he isn’t very big, you know?”

Stark’s eyes narrowed, dangerously.

“Five?”

“Yes, sir,” came the response from the other man. “We were told that the mercs had been told the townspeople are off limits, now and we pointed that out to them when we saw them. They said the boy isn’t a townsperson; that he was a captured soldier, and that made him open to whatever they wanted to do to him.”

“We told them to cut him down,” the first said, taking up the narrative, once more. “We know he’s yours, but they laughed and told us to fuck off.”

“So we jumped them.”

Tony looked at the healers who were tending the two men.

“Injuries?”

“They’re a bit beat up,” one replied. “Mostly cuts and bruises – although some of the swelling could be cracked ribs – and one broken nose. I recommend they’re put on light duty for a couple of weeks.”

“Done.” He turned to his aide. “Take care of that.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

Tony turned back to the healer.

“And the boy?”

“We’re still assessing. The rope choked him and tore skin. His wrists are badly skinned. Bruises and a broken hand, for certain. Someone knocked him out with a blow to the head that we’re still cleaning up.”

“Will he survive?”

“Probably. If he is cared for, properly.”

Which was their way of asking if he wanted them to spend so much attention on a simple slave.

Stark understood the question, which kept him from scowling.

“Stabilize him and have him transferred to my quarters and put into my bed.”

The healer and his aide both nodded.

“Yes, my Lord.”

Tony’s expression was furious, now, when he rounded on his senior officers.

“I want Rogers in the great hall in twenty minutes. I don’t care if you have to wipe out his entire company to get him there. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

They left, all together, and Tony glanced at the still form on the table once more and then left, as well, calling for a few of his soldiers to come guard the house. Just in case.


	8. 8

Stark was seated in what passed for a throne – although it was understated – when the captain of the mercenary company entered the main hall of the manor. The man was well built, and muscular, with piercing blue eyes that were slightly wary, despite the fact that he had all of his lieutenants behind him when he stopped in front of Stark.

Tony didn’t wait for pleasantries, despite the fact that he knew Rogers to be a competent leader of his men, and a fair tactician.

“You heard what happened?”

“I did,” Rogers confirmed. “An unfortunate misunderstanding.”

“That isn’t the way I heard it,” Stark responded. “Your men savaged a servant – knowing that he was _mine_ – and then refused to release him when ordered to do so.”

“They’re young,” Rogers said, dismissively. “They still have a lot to learn about working with other armies. I’ve ordered them punished.”

“Punished, how?”

“Half rations and I’ll have their pay docked for a month.”

“That might be enough to settle your honor,” Tony said. “But it doesn’t come close to making it right by me.”

“One of my men was killed by your men.”

“That’s on him. And on _you_ , since you’re ultimately responsible for what they do when they’re under your command. My men were in the right, and the fact that yours specifically sought out a servant known to belong to me, personally, is a slap at me. Restitution must be paid.”

“What would you ask?”

“ _Demand_ ,” Tony corrected. “I’m not _asking_ anything. One hundred gold for each soldier, and three hundred for my slave.”

“You’re out of your mind,” Rogers said, looking scandalized. “ _Three hundred?_ For a _slave_? I could buy 500 such boys for that much. And I’ll give you a gold apiece for the injury done to your men.”

Tony leaned forward, eyes glittering, dangerously.

“My men are out of commission for weeks, and the boy is my personal slave. My stress reliever. The one person on this entire planet whose job it is to keep me from losing my temper and snapping someone’s neck. He’s worth more than every man in your troop put together, for that reason alone. From what I understand from my healers, if he recovers at all, he’s going to be out of commission for months. Not to mention, he’s _mine_ , and your men dared to soil him. My honor demands a heavy price, and you’re going to pay it.”

“Or else…?” Rogers asked, not cowed, just yet.

Stark didn’t care.

“Or else I’ll have my men bring in a fresh bale of straw and I’ll find the lowliest soldier in my army with the biggest dick and I’ll have it shoved down your throat before you realize what has even happened.”

The story of general Jung had clearly made its way to the mercenary company, because Rogers actually paled.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Your company is a guild bonded group,” Tony reminded him. “That means you have a contract. With the guild and with my sultan. You lead your men, but I am supreme commander of the sultan’s military and that gives me the power and authority to do anything I want to maintain discipline. If you can’t keep your men under control, then I’ll take my five hundred gold out of your hide – and _then_ I’ll demand the restitution from whoever takes your place when you’re reduced to a quivering bag of stale cum.”

The threat lingered heavily in the air between the two men, and it wasn't surprising that Rogers was the one to back down. He didn’t do it gracefully, but Stark didn’t care about that, either.

“Fine. Five hundred gold.”

“Done.” Tony looked at his aide, who was standing beside him in his customary spot. “He doesn’t leave this room until someone brings that five hundred. If he takes too long, send the men for a bale of straw and come find me.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

“I’ll be in my rooms.”

Tony rose to his feet and turned his back on Rogers – a final insult to a very bad day for the mercenary leader. He smirked, now, because he knew Rogers’ company was fairly well off, but five hundred gold was a lot of money. It would take a while to gather, and the mercenary captain would be sweating under the threat of being brutalized the entire time he waited.

“Yes, my Lord.”

With a couple of men trailing behind him – just in case – Stark left the room and went to check on how his pet was doing.

><><><><>

There wasn't too much activity in the bedroom when he walked into it. The most senior healer in Stark’s army was there, hovering over a couple of others, who were just finishing settling their patient into the large bed.

“Has he woken?” Tony asked, looking at the sleeping boy.

“There were a few pained noises when we set the bones in his hand,” the man said. “But he didn’t truly wake. He may not for some time, and even then, he might not be up to much conversation – if any.”

“Permanently?”

There was a shrug.

“It depends on him. I cleaned the headwound and didn’t see any fracture of his skull, but it will remain to be seen.”

“What does he need?”

“To be kept warm and stress free. Sleep is what will work best – and any time he opens his eyes, we will want to give him something to drink, to keep him hydrated. I’ll leave a healer with him, so you don’t have to deal with his needs.”

“Install your healer in the rooms next door,” Tony ordered. “I don’t want him underfoot. I can force him to drink something when he wakes.”

The healer knew better than to argue. He just nodded.

“Yes, my Lord.”

“Will the hand heal?” Tony asked, unable to see anything below Peter’s neck, since the blankets had been pulled up over him.

“It’s a clean break.”

“Good.”

He watched as the healers finished what they were doing, and then gathered their medicines.

“I’ll be back in four hours to check on him, my Lord,” one of the healers said. “If something should happen, please don’t hesitate to call me.”

“Very well.”

They left and Tony seated himself, gingerly, on the edge of the bed. He pulled the blankets back to get a look at the damage done to the boy. Peter was on his back, and there were bandages one both hands, with the right one in a splint, holding the broken bones in place. There were so many bruises – combining the ones that Tony put on the pale flesh with the ones that the mercenaries did – that it was almost easier to point out the places that weren’t bruised, instead. His chest had a wide bandage around it, no doubt wrapping the boy’s ribs, tightly, and there was a rope burn on Peter’s neck, just under his jaw on the right side that disappeared into the pillows.

Stark saw a tremor go through the slight frame, and covered him, again, tucking the blankets carefully around him.

“Fucking bastards,” he whispered, brushing his fingers against Peter’s cheek. “I should have put him over the straw bale, anyway.”

Peter didn’t reply, but Tony didn’t really expect him to do so.

The commander leaned over and pressed his lips lightly against the boy’s cheek, and then wordlessly settled in to keep an eye on him, not trusting anyone else to do it, instead.


	9. 9

It was two days before Peter woke.

Knowing that he was important to Tony (although none of them were crazy enough to point it out in front of him) the healers were constantly checking on the boy, and giving him the best care possible. With Stark watching them almost consistently, they kept his wounds clean, kept his bedding clean and kept Peter clean, since he wasn't awake to take care of himself. He made pained noises, occasionally, usually when someone was checking the more serious bruises, or when they were probing the ribs – which the healers decided weren’t broken, only cracked, or bruised.

The broken hand was left in its bindings to heal, while the only bandages needed were on Peter’s head, and where he’d been so roughly bound by the ropes; neck and wrists. He sipped water when a cup was put to his lips, but never opened his eyes or responded to anything said to him.

When the healers were gone, allowing the boy a chance to get some rest, Stark would settle himself close at hand, always within range of a brush of his fingers along the blanketed form, or a touch to the cheek, or forehead, and it was the older man who was with Peter when he finally opened his eyes, again, late one night.

Tony was reading a book. The same one that Peter had already read. A soft moan drew his attention, immediately, and he looked over just in time to see Peter open his eyes. Concerned that he would develop sores if left in the same position, they had rolled him onto his side, propping him with pillows and cushions, and Tony had no trouble seeing the pain in his expressive eyes – or the confusion.

“Tony…?”

The whispered question made the war leader snort, softly, but he didn’t reprimand the boy for the familiarity of the address. Now wasn't the time to slap him, now was it? Instead he nodded, cupping the boy’s cheek with his large hand.

“Hey, Pet. How do you feel?”

“Sore….” He tried to bring his hand up to touch Tony’s, but the brace was unwieldy, and he winced. “What happened?”

“You tell me. What do you remember?”

Peter looked at him, clearly thinking back, but also clearly distracted by how much pain he was in.

“I don’t know.”

“I sent you to look at my fortifications,” Stark said, giving him a verbal nudge.

“And I did…” Peter turned his head, wincing, but trying to reach Tony’s palm with his lips. “They’re weak on the eastern side…” he closed his eyes, already exhausted by the conversation. “Because of the mountains? You don’t need the most people?”

Despite his concern for the boy, Stark smiled, pleased – and maybe a little excited to find that the boy really did know what he was talking about when it came to military tactics and placements? At least it was proof that the blow to his head hadn’t caused any permanent damage.

“Correct. No large force could come at us from that direction.” He brushed his fingers along Peter’s temple. “Open your eyes, Pet.”

Peter did as he was told, looking owlishly up at him.

“My head hurts…” he whispered, pained.

“I’m going to bring a healer. I want you to stay awake until he gets here. Understood?”

“Yes.”

The boy closed his eyes and was asleep before Tony stood up. Stark scowled, but then he smirked, secretly amused at the disobedience. It wasn't by _choice_ obviously, and could be excused, he supposed, as he reached for his book, once more.

At least, this time it could be.

><><><><<><>

When next Peter woke, it was morning. Tony had advised the healers of the fact that he’d opened his eyes and spoken to him, and with the knowledge that the boy wasn't addled by his injuries, they decided that they would make him eat something before allowing him to go back to sleep.

“Sleep is what he needs most, my Lord,” the head healer told Stark. “But if we don’t keep him nourished and hydrated, he’ll weaken and be worse off than just the injuries that he’s taken, now.”

“Do what you need to do,” Tony told the man. “Just don’t hurt him doing it – any more than you need to.”

What they did was bring a tray with warm cereal and cream, and several slices of ham and a cup of wine as well as water. To help with the pain, was the response to the silent question in Stark’s eyes when he saw it. Then they eased Peter onto his back, and propped him upright against a small mountain of pillows.

That was when he woke, making a soft sound of discomfort and reaching for Tony almost frantically before he was even awake enough to realize where he was.

“Shhh,” the healer murmured, catching his hand before he could knock anything off the tray. “Hold still, boy.”

Peter looked up at him.

“Where am I?”

“In _my bed_ ,” Tony replied, from the side.

The young man turned his head to look at him, and his eyes widened. He started to move, his entire body tensing at the motion and eliciting a soft moan of pain.

“I’m sorry, Master.”

Stark’s hand on his shoulder stopped him from vacating the position – as did the healer’s hand holding his arm.

“Hold still,” the healer repeated.

“Stay still, Pet,” Tony ordered, adding his own authority to the command of the healer – making Peter freeze in mid motion.

He smiled his approval – and to soften the sharpness of his tone – and Peter allowed himself to settle back against the pillows.

“I want you to eat,” the healer ordered him. “Then you may rest, again.”

“Yes, sir.” He looked down at the tray of food, uncertainly. “All of it?”

“As much as you can,” the healer replied, amused. He looked at Stark. “I’ll be back to check on him in a short while.”

Tony nodded a dismissal, and the man left the two of them alone. Peter reached for the spoon and promptly dropped it with a clatter, making Stark snort. The boy was too sore to be embarrassed, and he reached for it, the bandages and cast making it difficult to pick up – much less hold.

“I’m _not_ spoon-feeding you,” Tony told him.

“No, Master,” Peter said. “I know.” He dropped the spoon, again, worried and a little frantic, now, to obey when his hands weren’t cooperating. The boy reached for it with his opposite hand, and knocked the small plate of ham off the tray, which made him make a grab for it – and made him gasp with pain when the sudden motion aggravated his injured ribs and aching head.

“Stop, Pet…” Stark said, righting the meat, and then picking up the spoon.

“I’m sorry, Master.”

Peter looked near tears, from pain, or frustration, or fear, Tony didn’t know – and didn’t _care_. All were upsetting to him, just then, and he didn’t want his pet stressing – or hurting himself. He took a spoonful of the cereal and cream, blowing on it, to make sure it wasn't too warm, and then nudged it against the younger man’s lips.

“Open up.”

Peter did as he was told, not looking at Tony, as if afraid to see the disapproval that had to be there, as the man fed him the spoonful of cereal – and then repeated the process, several more times. Which was probably just as well, really, Stark decided, as he blew on the next spoonful before feeding it to his pet.

“The healers tell me that you’re going to be sore for a couple of weeks,” Tony told him, setting the spoon down to tear a slice of ham into several pieces and feeding one to Peter. “And probably worthless as a body slave for twice that long, unless I’m willing to risk injuring you further in my desire to have my way with you.”

Peter looked at him, then, uncertainly, going still mid-chew.

“Which I’m not,” the older man said, taking a slice of ham for himself before popping another one into Peter’s mouth. “Thanks to Rogers’ men, I’m probably going to be the horniest man in this Podunk town the next few weeks.”

“I tried to escape them, Master,” Peter said, softly, looking away.

“I should hope so. They had no business even touching you. Much less thinking they could have you for themselves.” He reached for Peter’s chin, using it to force the boy to look at him. “You’re _mine_. No one else’s.”

If it had been intended as a reprimand, it failed, because Peter blushed, prettily, and even managed a shaky smile.

“Yes, Master.”

Tony forced himself not to croon in pleasure at the sight, and scowled, instead, picking up another bite of ham.

“Open up, Pet,” he ordered, gruffly. “We’ll get you healthy so I can feed you a bigger, and choicer serving of meat once you’re better.”

Peter did as he was told, his bandaged hand coming to rest on the older man’s thigh, almost comfortably.

“Yes, Master.”


	10. 10

<><><<><><>

“What did you learn?”

The aide didn’t need to consult his notes.

“Captain Rogers and his men are leaving in the next day or so. They were given a new contract to fight a civil war in the far east. He sent a letter of protest to the mercenary guild the day after he was forced to make restitution, and my spies were able to get me a copy of the official document – although I understand that Rogers burned the original in a fit of pique.”

“They sided with me?”

“Said you had every right to demand any price you thought fit – especially since Peter is known to belong specifically to you. The author of the letter went on to suggest that the man should consider himself fortunate that you didn’t take your piece of his skin in whatever manner you chose.”

Stark nodded, his approval. He wasn't surprised; the guild was careful to make sure they remained impartial, but had they sided with Rogers, Tony would have had to make his appeal directly to the sultan. And now he didn’t have to.

“When are the mercenaries leaving?”

“They’re packing their things, now, my Lord,” the aide advised. “They should be gone by tomorrow evening.”

“Move the men into the places they vacate. Work is progressing on rebuilding the city?”

“Yes, my Lord. It goes well.” He smiled, smugly. “The moral is high with the men, right now.”

Professional soldiers loved watching mercenary officers getting dealt with the way Tony had, and it showed in their demeanor. Not to mention that Stark had ordered 10 gold to each of the men that had rescued Peter – and a one rank promotion, to boot.

That always raised morale among the common soldiers.

“Good. We’ll be here another three weeks – maybe a month and a half, and then we’ll head home.”

“Am I allowed to tell the men?”

“Yes. Make sure they understand that we’re not leaving until our replacements come and are settled.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

The aide saluted and then left, and Tony stretched, looking at the remaining documents and correspondences that were on the desk he had been working at most of the evening. He grunted, deciding that he was done for the night, and got to his feet.

Walking into the bedroom, Tony sat on the edge of the bed, watching to see if the motion would wake the boy who was sleeping in it – exactly where he’d been for almost two weeks, now.

The brown eyes opened, sleepily.

“Master?”

Tony smiled, not even bothering to hide the expression, as he leaned over and brushed his hand against Peter’s cheek. The bruises were faded for the most part – although the boy’s ribs were still incredibly sore and the broken hand ached almost constantly. The healers had suggested wine, but the amount of wine it took to ease the pain of his injuries far exceeded the amount that it took the boy to get drunk, and that had been a disaster. Peter had become animated beyond what he was ready for, and had rolled himself out of the bed before Stark could catch him, jolting his ribs and hand so badly that he’d passed out.

Or maybe the wine had had something to do with it. Either way, he was limited to willow bark tea, now, for pain control.

“Hi, Pet,” he murmured. “How do you feel?”

“Sleepy…”

“Then go back to sleep. I’m going to go take a bath, and then I’ll come keep you company.”

“I could bathe you, Master.”

“Not yet, you can’t. Stop being stubborn.”

It was an argument that they’d had twice before, already. Although _argument_ wasn't really the term for it. Tony wanted to soak in the tub, Peter wanted to do his job and let him lean on him, caressing and massaging tense muscles as he bathed him. The healers had already pointed out that the young man’s ribs weren’t going to be able to handle anything close to that kind of activity for at least another week or two – if not longer – and that his hand couldn’t be allowed to get wet.

Tony enjoyed the fact that his pet wanted to be with him, and don’t even get him started on how fucking adorable that lower lip was when it stuck out, and trembled. But he was the master and wouldn’t allow any back-talk, and Peter knew it. Tony had chewed him out twice, now, for trying to crawl out of his bed and bathe him, and had picked him up and bodily carried him back to the bedroom, _and_ the bed.

The boy sighed, and rolled painfully onto his side.

“I want to serve you, Master…”

Even though he ached continuously, the boy was keenly aware of the fact that he wasn't doing anything productive. They wouldn’t let him out of his bed, and the healers and their servants were tasked with keeping him clean and emptying the jar he used as a urinal and making sure his bedding was fresh.

Tony didn’t do any of that; it was beneath him, but _he_ was the one who spent the most time with Peter. It was Stark who forced him to eat, or fed him, himself, when he couldn’t handle the utensils, or the pain that moving too much brought on. It was also Tony who settled beside him every evening, talking to him, or sometimes reading aloud to him. Always running a possessive hand along the boy’s side, or cheek. Peter didn’t know it, but Stark was more impressed with the boy every day that he spent with him.

Peter was intelligent. Not just in military tactics, but he was also able to do calculations in his head faster than anyone Tony had ever seen. He knew history, and unbelievably, he could speak _four_ languages, fluently, and had a smattering of vocabulary in several others.

“My parents traveled,” the boy had explained, blushing at the look that Stark was giving him – uncertain if it was annoyance or approval. “I have a good memory, and remember the languages as we run into them.”

And then, completely unaware of just how astounding that ability was – or simply too tired to care – Peter had drifted off, again, leaving Stark shaking his head, wondering what fool had been utilizing someone so extraordinary as a simple soldier. It was criminal, for certain, and Tony had every intention of taking advantage of the boy’s talents when he was healthier. Both in bed and out of it.

All in all, the boy was amazing, and Tony was intrigued and wanted to learn as much about him as he could. How else could he utilize the abilities, after all?

“You serve me best by doing as you’re told,” Stark replied, firmly. He brushed Peter’s hair away from his eyes. “Don’t make me tell you, again.”

Peter was healed enough, now, that Tony wasn't above a gentle admonishment, verbal or physical – although the physical was usually only a light slap that was designed to get the boy’s attention and not to hurt.

“Yes, Master.”

The capitulation was immediate, but Peter’s eyes were watery, now, and the lower lip was trembling. Stark was hard-pressed not to be charmed, and forced himself to leave the bedroom without another word. He went into the bathroom and the steaming tub that was waiting for him and soaked for a long time in the hot water, letting his muscles relax, before washing himself off and then draining the water and drying off.

Naked, he walked back to his room and found that Peter had fallen asleep in his absence. The boy was once more on his side, broken hand cradled protectively against his stomach and his head supported by pillows. Tony ached for him. It almost certainly had everything to do with his celibacy the last weeks, but his hand went to his cock even as he watched Peter sleep. He _could_ just go find another slave – or a pretty towns girl (or boy) – to have a quick roll in the hay with, so to speak, but he wanted _Peter_. His pet was perfect for him, and fit him so well.

He stroked himself hard, wondering if he might be up for a blowjob, if nothing else, and settled on the edge of the bed for a moment before moving to kneel next to the sleeping boy’s head. He guided the head of his cock to brush against Peter’s lips, and patted the boy’s cheek, lightly, to wake him. When those beautiful eyes opened, he moved his hips forward, taking a very careful handful of Peter’s hair – far away from where the blow had landed on his skull.

“Open your mouth for me, Pet,” he whispered, almost tenderly, smiling down at him.

The boy hesitated, as if he wasn't certain that he was hearing what he thought he was, and then eased upright a little and lowered his head, mouth opening as he’d been commanded. Tony’s breath caught when Peter’s skilled tongue began to play with him, and he pushed a little deeper – although he didn’t shove himself so far into him that the boy gagged. He didn’t _need_ to in order to feel pleasure.

Peter slurped and licked, sucking and lapping at the head, or the shaft – or both – and Stark found his hips moving in time with Peter’s mouth and tongue. Far too soon, he was tensing, although he wasn't surprised. His hand tightened, eliciting a pained gasp that Tony ignored in favor of pushing in a little harder and climaxing, holding Peter still as he fed him a load of cum and then continued to stroke his cock in and out a few more times, allowing the head to tease the boy’s lips and tongue as he came down from his orgasm.

Peter kissed the head, and then felt Tony pull him off by the hair.

“Thank you, Master.”

“Feel better, Pet?”

“Yes.”

“Go back to sleep,” Tony ordered, moving the blankets so that he could slide under them beside his pet, although he still couldn’t hold him without hurting him. “Do as you’re told, and I’ll allow you to suck me in the morning, too.”

“Yes, Master.”

Peter closed his eyes, but the large body next to him shifted, and he felt Tony press a tender kiss against his temple, and then against the corner of his mouth. He smiled, beatifically, and drifted off almost immediately. Tony kissed him, again, and then settled into his spot, feeling more relaxed than he had in days. Even though it had only been a simple blowjob.

It had been Peter’s mouth on him, after all, and Peter who had swallowed him.

Of course, he was relaxed.


	11. 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a bit of free time, so I'll be writing a bit and hopefully updating more often than usual - I hope there's still interest in the story and that I'm not burying you guys under chapters

It was another week before the healers allowed Peter to try and actually get out of bed. Peter was willing, long before, but the healers – well aware by then that the supreme commander had a soft spot for the boy – had been extremely careful with his recovery. Much more than they would have been for a simple soldier, or a townsperson. Unheard of for a slave.

With Tony watching from the doorway, affecting a nonchalance that he didn’t feel, the boy was helped to his feet, where he stood, shaking, and leaning on one of the healers while another bundled him in a warm pair of leggings and a long woolen tunic. Stark didn’t miss the fact that every rib was showing on the boy, now – a biproduct of the energy his body was using up to heal, and the lack of any real exercise for several long weeks, now.

“Only to the living area,” the head healer instructed, as his underling supported Peter with a careful hand while the boy walked unsteadily to the doorway, smiling at his master, despite the fact that Tony could see from his expressive eyes that there was still some pain.

Stark couldn’t help but smile back, although he forced himself to not reach out a supporting hand of his own when Peter stumbled a little, tripping over his own foot. The healer had been ready and caught him, and it was the only misstep made as they got him to the sofa and then lowered him carefully into a sitting position – supported by pillows on both sides to hold him upright, and then a blanket to keep him from catching a chill.

“Well?” Tony asked the healer. “Is he going to be well enough to bring home with me when we leave?”

“We have several weeks, still, my Lord,” the healer replied, checking the somewhat healed wound on Peter’s head, and then pulling the tunic low enough to bare the still red, but mostly healed mark left under the boy’s neck by the rope that had almost killed him. “He’s doing very well. Better than I expected, really.”

“That’s good to hear.” Tony moved to stand in front of the boy, who was watching him, even as one of the other healers pulled the cast off his right hand and started gently manipulating the bones of his hand to check the healing. Peter paled and his breath caught in his chest, but he didn’t cry out in pain, or jerk his hand away from the man at the touch. “And the _hand_?”

“It’s healing well,” that healer assured him. “There is no loss of sensation – obviously. He should regain full use of it.”

None of them had missed Peter’s reaction, of course.

“Good.”

“We can keep him out of bed during the day, now,” the senior healer told Stark, while they began building a new cast on the injured hand. “But nothing too strenuous for at least another week, to give him a chance to build up his stamina.”

“Can he bathe himself, yet?”

“The hand must stay dry. Another week, my Lord.”

There was definitely an apology in the man’s tone, but Tony wasn't annoyed. _He_ wasn't the one giving Peter daily sponge baths, was he?

“Recommendations?”

“He’s thin. We’ll want to feed him as much as he can eat, now that he’s upright. The higher the quality the better, to build some meat on him.”

“Very well. Inform my cook.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

They finished the cast, gave it a chance to dry and then left, advising that they’d make sure someone returned with the noon meal, just to see if anything was needed. Tony waited until the door closed behind them, and then went over to stand in front of Peter, who brought his uninjured left hand up to rest against the older man’s leg.

The rope marks were still red on the wrist, too, Tony noticed, not for the first time.

“Well, Pet. No bath for you.”

“I’m sorry, Master.”

It really meant no bathing _Tony_ , which was a disappointment to them both, really.

“Better to have you completely healed.” He stepped closer, nudging Peter’s knees apart, bringing himself within reach of the boy, and looked down at him, caressing his cheek, lightly. “Besides, I have no complaints, right now.”

Peter wasn't up to much, just yet, but he had been giving Tony blowjobs every day. Once in the morning when they woke, almost always once before bed and a few times sometime in the afternoon. It was a stress reliever as much as a release for Stark, and that was Peter’s responsibility, after all. The only real problem with any of that was the fact that his throat had been damaged by the rope that had left its mark on the boy’s neck, and the muscles had a tendency to seize if Tony pushed himself too deep. Which felt _amazing_ , of course, but very nearly choked the boy the first time it had happened. Peter had gagged, and Stark had scowled, assuming he was shirking and pushing deeper, but then the boy had made a terrible noise and his eyes had rolled back in his head, coming very close to passing out.

Tony had pulled back, immediately, allowing him to breathe, but it had been many long moments of terrible wheezing before Peter had been able to catch his breath and regain his color. The healers had been consulted, and had assured them both that it should pass, once the muscles healed, completely. It didn’t stop Tony from feeding Peter his cock on a regular basis, but he was a little more careful, just then.

Peter reached for his master’s belt, trying to undo it with just the left hand, proving that he didn’t mind the idea of pleasuring his master no matter the time of day. Stark checked him up, though, with a handful of hair, pulling his head – and the rest of his body back a bit.

“Not right now, Pet,” he said, regretfully. “I have a ton of things that need taken care of, today, and I don’t have time.”

“Yes, Master.” The young man looked around, probably glad to be out of the bedroom for the first time in three weeks. “What should I do?”

“Rest.” Tony let his hair go. “You can watch me read correspondences that are too important for me to ignore, but not so important that I should delegate them to my scribes – who are already buried under a sea of paperwork.” He sighed. “And when I’m done with that, I need to do a troop review and make sure the populace is being treated properly. Which means I won’t be done until tonight.”

Peter hesitated, looking up at him, uncertainly.

“I could help, Master…” he offered.

“Review the troops?”

Morale was _good_ , but his men wouldn’t care for the thought of Peter looking over their shoulders on Tony’s behalf.

“I can read, Master,” he reminded the older man. “If they aren’t too personal, I could go through the correspondences for you.”

It would give him something to do.

Stark eyed him, speculatively. He knew Peter could read, of course – and in more than one language, which was an added benefit since some of the documents that he waited on the longest were the ones that had parts that needed translating. He just hadn’t thought of utilizing him, just yet. Not with him so badly injured.

“You’re _hurt_.”

“My eyes aren’t, Master. I could even _respond_ to them – if you told me what you wanted me to write. It might save you some time, and I have nothing else to do.”

“Some are confidential. Not military secrets, but things the men shouldn’t be told, yet.”

Peter shrugged, wincing at the motion.

“I don’t have anyone, Master. There’s no one for me to tell.”

A very good point, really.

Tony looked at him, studying him for a long moment, while the boy looked down at his hands, waiting for a blow for his insolence or a cruel word of contempt. To his surprise, neither happened.

“I’ll give you a chance,” Stark decided, moving over to his desk and rifling through a large stack of papers. As Peter watched him, he sorted a dozen documents and brought them over to set on the boy’s blanket covered lap. “Start with these.” He moved to the desk, again, and returned with a notebook and a pen. “Make notes on each, and be prepared to tell me if there is anything in them that indicate any sense of urgency from the sender.”

“Thank you, Master.”

“Do a good job and I’ll reward you.”

“Yes, Master.”

He picked up the first letter and unfolded it, awkwardly, already turning his attention to the scribbly handwriting. Stark watched him for a moment, and then made sure the lamp was turned toward him so he’d have light, in case he didn’t return until after dark.

“The healers will have someone bring you lunch,” he said, making Peter look up. “Eat everything they give you, and take time to rest, when you need to.”

“I will, Master.”

Tony left to do his troop review, and Peter turned his attention back to the document in his hand.


	12. 12

It was earlier than he’d expected, but still late, when Stark returned to his rooms. He dismissed his aide to go get some sleep and entered his door, quietly, knowing from the most recent report from the healers that Peter had been fed both a heavy lunch and then a hearty dinner, had eaten both and had been bathed and cleaned up, although he’d told the healers that he was fine on the sofa and would wait for his master to arrive before going to bed.

Tony closed the door, and smiled softly.

To _bed_ , maybe, but not to sleep. The boy was on the sofa, still somewhat propped up on the pillows and was snoring, lightly, with his head leaned back, his injured hand – as always – carefully tucked against his side. There were two stacks of papers on the small table next to the couch, as well as the notebook that he’d give to the boy. Curious, Stark walked over, silently, and picked up the notebook, although he ignored the papers, for the moment.

There were several pages worth of notes, written in smooth, neat script. Tony frowned, wondering how the boy had managed that with the cast on his hand, but then noticed that there was a bit of an ink stain on the fingers of his left hand, which explained the mystery, somewhat – although he didn’t know anyone who wrote with their off hand. He set the notebook down, and left the living room, going into the bedroom and stripping off his uniform to change into the simple robe. He pulled the bedding back on the bed, as well. A stop in the bathroom to wash up – although he didn’t bother with a bath – and then he walked back to the sleeping boy, and knelt down beside the sofa and watched him sleep for a moment before he gently brushed his knuckles against Peter’s temple.

Peter’s eyes opened, slowly, and he looked up into Tony’s. Still much more asleep than awake, he reached out with his uninjured hand and his fingertips trailed along the line of facial hair that ran along his jaw.

A lover’s touch, Tony knew, feeling a surge of affection for the boy. He’d chosen so well that day in the field, and hadn’t even known it at the time.

His expression softened, and he caught the hand with his own, pressing a kiss against Peter’s palm.

“Wake up, Pet, so I can put you to bed.”

Peter nodded, more awake, now, and he started to right himself so he could get to his feet and do as he was told. Tony stopped him, however, and simply gathered him into his arms, mindful of the ribs that still ached, and the hand that was only somewhat healed. He picked him up, easily, and Peter’s head went to his shoulder, eyes closing with a soft sigh that Tony felt in is ear as much as he heard it. Rather than actually put the boy under the blankets, he simply sat down on the edge of the bed, still holding him, and cradled him in his embrace for the moment.

“Are you asleep?” he asked in a whisper.

“No, Master,” came the sleepy reply. “Did you eat?”

“Yes.” Tony ignored the implication that he needed Peter to look out for his wellbeing – he sort of liked the thought that the younger man was checking up on him. “Did you?”

“Yes. It was good.”

“You finished the correspondences?”

“Yes, Master. I took notes for you to look over.”

“Good.” Tony pressed a kiss against Peter’s temple, and the boy responded to the gentle touch with another sigh of contentment. His hand slid into the robe, automatically, but it was the one with the cast, and the caress lost a lot of its tenderness with the rough plaster covering the boy’s fingers. “Anything I need to know, immediately?”

“Mostly requests for information on troop strengths and formations. There was something from a general who was asking if you have any men you’d recommend for promotion. They have a couple of colonels that are retiring – one was killed – and he mentioned that he’d like to use men personally trained by you. I wrote it down and put it on the top of the stack I thought you might want to look at, first.”

“Well done,” Tony said, approvingly, feeling amorous despite the subject matter.

The boy was smart, and that was sexy. He peppered tiny kisses along Peter’s jaw, his hand coming up to tilt the younger man’s head back – carefully – to expose his throat so he could pay attention to the sensitive flesh there. Peter moaned his appreciation of the touch and lifted his chin as much as the injured muscles in his neck would allow. He felt his master bite his neck, gently, and shivered.

“Master…”

“I’m going to undress you,” Tony told him, easing him more upright so he could reach for the hem of the tunic Peter was wearing and bracing the boy against his larger body to keep him from falling out of his lap as he pulled the shirt off. “And then I’m going to reward you, like I promised.”

Peter opened his eyes, then, and looked up at Tony, who was sliding his hand down the younger man’s belly and into his lap. His hand stopped at the soft bulge of Peter’s groin, and they both felt a twitch of response at the touch. Tony chuckled at the boy’s blush, deciding that while being rough and taking what he wanted was exciting, there might be something to say for a tender moment, as well – as long as it was with the right person.

“The healer said nothing strenuous,” Stark reminded the boy as he caressed him through the soft fabric, feeling Peter’s cock swelling. “So you’re going to lay back and I’m going to do whatever I want to you while you hold still and take it. Understand?”

Peter shivered.

“Yes, Master.”

Tony stood and turned, lowering Peter onto the bed, easily. The boy watched him as he unfastened the trousers he was wearing and then carefully pulled them off and tossed them to the floor. He nudged Peter’s knees apart and claimed the spot between them, leaning over and kissing the younger man’s chest, sucking a mark into the skin above his right nipple and then doing the same above the left before he caught the tiny nub in his mouth and suckled it, lazily.

_“God…”_

Tony chuckled, not releasing his prize. It wasn't _master_ , but it was close enough, he supposed, that he didn’t reprimand the boy. Mindful of the proof that he liked the attention, Tony did the same to the other nipple and allowed his robe to fall open as he did, his already throbbing cock brushing against Peter’s inner thigh.

“Hold still,” Tony reminded him, as his mouth began to move along Peter’s body. His tongue and lips left a moist trail of fire and Peter moaned, softly, several times, but didn’t move as the older man’s attentions moved ever lower. Tony’s breath was hot on the skin at the base of Peter’s cock and it was all the boy could do to keep from writhing at the sensation. “You want your reward, Pet?” Tony asked, taunting him, gently.

Peter looked down at him, eyes dazed and hopeful. He was so afraid it was some kind of sadistic trick on Tony’s part, but even if it was, he couldn’t help but nod.

“Please, Master… please…”

Whether begging for the touch, or for it to not be too painful if it _was_ a trick, it didn’t matter. He needed it.

Tony turned his head and kissed the shaft of his now quivering cock, his tongue sliding along it to taste the precum that was trickling down from the head. Peter almost came right then and there, and the strangled noise the boy made had nothing to do with the damaged muscles of his neck and throat. Tony chuckled, again, amused, and delighted by the sound. He felt a thrill at the thought of being the reason the boy was so hard, and his mouth watered at the flavor of him.

He licked and worked his way up Peter’s length, and then caught the bobbing head in his mouth for the first time. It was too much for Peter, who hadn’t had an orgasm in weeks and had never felt his master’s mouth on him before like that. His cock tensed, warning Tony, and his hips bucked upward, despite the command to hold still. Stark moved back, stroking the boy’s cock and holding it firm while Peter climaxed, crooning encouragement to him as he caught the younger man’s cum on his hand as rope after rope was ejaculated into his grasp.

“Yes, Pet… keep going, Peter… The more the better…”

He continued to stroke him until the boy gave a satisfied noise and finally held still, heart pounding and eyes wide open with a mixture of shock and confusion – and lust.

“Master… thank you…”

Again, thanking him for not hurting him, or for the pleasure he’d given him.

Tony’s answering smile was tender, as was the cum drenched hand that slid along Peter’s crack, slicking the boy thoroughly as the robe dropped to the floor. He had him, now, he knew, as he slid a finger into him. The young man was utterly his, and it excited Stark to recognize that. He stroked his cock with the same fingers that were smeared with Peter’s cum, and then shifted to nudge the head against that perfect opening.

“Your reward, Pet,” he reminded him as he slid himself into the boy, trying to keep from jostling him as he did. He wanted this time to be painless for Peter, well aware that it wasn't always going to be that way. “Do as I tell you and you’ll feel my mouth on you often. Understand?”

“Yes, Master,” Peter moaned as he felt himself being filled. He brought his knees up a little more, opening himself for his master. Giving himself up to the pleasure he was feeling. “Anything.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Tony assured him as he began thrusting into his pet, his breathing becoming ragged as he took his pleasure.

_He_ didn’t take long, either, really; not lasting more than a few minutes. The boy was just too perfect under him, and the memory of the pleasured noises that he’d forced from him were fresh and were augmented by the soft moans Peter was making, even now. Tony slammed himself deep when he climaxed, filling Peter with his cum, and ignoring the painful gasp when the last thrust jarred the younger man’s ribs. Despite the pain, Peter clung to him, and trembled as he felt Tony’s release filling him.

They were still for a long moment, catching their breath. Stark was bracing himself above Peter’s body, making sure he wasn't resting any weight on the boy to avoid hurting him, now that he was sensible, again. He finally sighed and pulled out, and then eased the pliant younger man into a more comfortable position before joining him and pulling him possessively up against him. He made sure they were warmly covered, and looked at the boy.

His heart gave a little happy dance at the contented expression in those beautiful eyes, and he made a mental note to give Peter some kind of assignment to complete that would give him a reason to suck the boy the next evening, as well.

“Thank you, Master…” Peter whispered.

“You’re welcome, Pet.” He kissed him, then; for the first time tasting Peter’s lips with his own, and the boy moaned, softly, in surprise and happiness. His hand slid along Stark’s side, and the older man rolled his eyes and broke the kiss, reaching for the hand and carefully moving it to tuck it between their bodies. “Use the _other_ hand, next time,” he ordered, amused. “There’s nothing sexy about the sensation of cold plaster running along sweaty skin.”

Recognizing that he was being teased, Peter smiled.

“I’ll remember that,” he promised, melting into the other man’s embrace and sighing.

Tony closed his eyes, too comfortable and relaxed to even bother calling him out for not addressing him as master.

“Go to sleep, Pet,” he ordered. “We have a lot to do tomorrow.”


	13. 13

A week later the healers pronounced that Peter was well enough that he probably didn’t need their constant care any longer. The ribs still ached a little, and his throat was still tender, but the cast came off – replaced by a stiff leather brace to protect the mostly healed bones – and he was reminded to eat as much good food as was put in front of him and to not put too much stress on his nearly recovered body.

That evening, he had celebrated by taking his master to the bath and spending a long time cradling him from behind and washing him, as much as caressing him, as he nibbled on Stark’s ear and peppered his neck and jaw with kisses. The older man had accepted the attention with almost as much enthusiasm as Peter gave it, leaning carefully back into Peter’s embrace and allowing the boy to have his way with him.

The past week had been enjoyable for both of them. After breakfast each day, Tony would assign a stack of correspondences to Peter before starting his day of meetings or planning with his officers. It gave the younger man something to do to keep him from being bored during his enforced idleness, and it really was helpful to Stark to have someone look through them and sort the important from that which could wait – or could be thrown in the fire.

When Tony would return to his rooms, the papers would be sorted, and a few responses would be written out, waiting for him to read and approve them, or decide on changes to the wording, if warranted. Then he and Peter would have a late dinner, and Tony would give his pet his ‘reward’ for doing his work well, and would take the boy to bed.

Peter was well and truly addicted to having his master’s attentions, now; and Tony was just as addicted to the noises of pleasure that the younger man made when he was under him, so it worked out well for both of them. If he was in a particularly generous mood, he’d pin Peter under him and suck on the boy’s cock until he couldn’t hold back and climaxed. Or he’d lay back and it would be Peter who pleasured him with touch and tongue.

Both were fine ways to pass the evenings, and would almost always end up with Tony rolling the boy underneath him and parting Peter’s ass cheeks to slide his cock between them and claim him once more, reminding him who he belonged to.

As if there was any doubt to either of them.

The morning after their first shared bath in more than a month, Tony was sitting at the table with Peter eating breakfast and watching as the younger man carefully sliced an apple, trying to do so without cutting his hand using the hand that was still in the brace.

“I want you to run some errands for me, today,” he said. “Now that you’re cleared to be out of bed and on your feet.”

The healers had pointed out that the young man needed some fresh air and sun, and Stark was willing to allow that.

“Yes, Master.”

“The documents can be taken to Colonel Rhodes to be dispatched.”

“Yes, Master.”

“Then I want you to do a little looking around.” He frowned at the curious look the younger man gave him. “Sometimes a leader doesn’t hear from his officers what is really going on with the people beneath him. I’m being told that the city is settling, now that we’ve instilled martial law and the populace is becoming used to the military’s presence, but I want to know for sure before our replacements arrive and I turn the place over to another commander.”

“I understand, Master.”

Of _course_ he did, Tony thought. He was a fucking _genius_.

“Good. Be ready to report to me, tonight.”

“Yes, Master.”

“I’ll be in meetings with my senior officers all day, so you’re on your own for lunch.”

That was common. Stark rarely had time during his busy days to make time to spend with someone as low as Peter, after all.

Peter nodded, but the knife slipped before he could reply. Luckily, the blade sliced into the leather brace, and not tender skin. Stark scowled, and snapped his fingers, gesturing to the knife and the apple.

“Give those to me, before you cut off your fingers.”

“Yes, Master.” Peter handed them over, and Tony began slicing it, handing him pieces. “Thank you, Master.”

“Next time, just _ask_ me, will you? The last thing I need is for you to cut your hand off – I’m getting used to not having to write my own reports, after all.”

The younger man smiled, shyly, loving those rare times when his master teased him.

“Yes, Master.”

Tony smiled, too.

>><><><><<>

It was just before lunch when Tony learned that Peter might not be ready to go outside, after all.

He was in a meeting with the commanders of his units, discussing the most recent correspondences from home, when the door opened and his aide walked, silently, into the room, standing against a wall and waiting for the colonel who was speaking to finish. The look he gave Stark told him that he needed to talk to him, and it probably wouldn’t wait.

Trusting the man to know what was important and what wasn't, Tony waited for the colonel to finish his report, as well, but held up a hand before there could be any replies from the others.

“We’ll take a break for a moment,” he told the other men, gesturing toward his aide, who walked over as the officers went to find refreshments. “What’s up?”

“It’s Peter.”

“What this time?”

The boy was just back on his feet. He couldn’t have managed to get himself into trouble _already_ , could he?

“We’re not sure, my Lord. They found him hiding in a small shed just by the gate to the commons. He’s terrified, but he won’t tell anyone what’s wrong. He’s just holding onto a post as if he’s drowning and won’t let go. I tried to calm him, but he’s not responding.”

The aide had spent enough time with Peter that he had managed to get to know him, a little, and liked the boy. Not to mention, Peter put Stark in a good mood – for the most part – and that made things easier on everyone. Especially the aide.

Tony scowled; a mixture of annoyance and concern. He looked at his officers, debating what he wanted to do about the situation. He could just have someone bodily pick the boy up and deliver him to his quarters, where he could discover what was going on in relative peace and quiet – which could hurt his pet, perhaps. Or he could go see if he could calm him, himself. The supreme commander sighed.

“Gentlemen, I have a situation that requires my personal attention. We’ll finish this conversation tomorrow.”

He didn’t wait for them to agree. With his aide leading the way, Stark left the room, and then the building, and they walked several of the city blocks, toward a small grass field that Tony knew was used as a community area for people to keep their poultry during the day. Usually guarded by little girls, since it was inside the city walls and safe from predators, their only real responsibility was to make sure the geese, ducks and chickens didn’t stray. They ended up turning right before the gate.

“He’s been there for over two hours. A few girls found him,” the aide explained, gesturing toward a small shed. “He frightened them, at first, but then they realized something was wrong. Two stayed with him, and one went to get her father. When the father couldn’t get him out of the shed, he flagged down one of our soldiers, who luckily recognized him, and went to tell his corporal, who then contacted a sergeant, until it went up the ranks to a colonel who sent for me.”

When they reached the shed, they found it being guarded by one soldier at the entrance, and a colonel standing just inside the entrance. There was a townsman sitting on a bale of straw – probably the father of the little girl who was watching everything with big, scared eyes – and Peter was huddled against a post, clinging to it just as Tony’s aide had described.

Even as he approached, the colder man could see him shaking, and he looked over at the colonel who was watching.

“Have a blanket brought.”

The colonel nodded, walking over to the door to give the soldier outside the order since colonels didn’t fetch for slaves, now did they?

Tony knelt down next to Peter, who had his face pressed against the coarse wood of the post he was clutching. He rested his hand on the boy’s shoulder, feeling his shaking even more profoundly, now, through the contact.

“Peter?” There was no answer – not even an indication that he’d been heard. Tony could hear soft sobs, now that he was close enough, and he frowned, wondering what had happened – and if someone had hurt him. He looked the boy over, but he didn’t see any blood. Just the simple outfit that he’d dressed in that morning. Stark scowled, annoyed at being ignored – and concerned about what it was that had his pet so upset that he dared to ignore him in the first place. He slapped the boy’s cheek, careful to keep to the fleshy part so it wouldn’t bruise against the prominent cheekbone. “Hey, look at me.”

The pain did the trick. Or maybe the annoyance in Stark’s tone. Peter didn’t let go of the pole, but he did look over at the voice that was so demanding. His eyes were wet and his cheeks were smeared with tears, and he looked as afraid as Tony’s aide had said he did.

“I’m sorry,” he said with a hiccup. “I can’t…”

“Can’t what? Talk to me.”

“I-I was walking back from giving the documents to Colonel Rhodes…”

“And…?”

“And there… and there were some men following me.” He wheezed, trying to breathe through the tightening of his throat from the panic attack and the still damaged muscles. “I thought they were going to… to _grab_ me, and… and hurt me. I don’t know what happened.” He was talking fast, between sobs, and the shaking was getting worse, not better. “One of them laughed at something – I don’t know what – and something snapped, and I had to hide.”

Oh.

Tony scowled, furious with himself – and the healers – for not having thought about that. Of course the boy would be afraid that something might happen. Why wouldn’t he be? Something had happened the last time he’d been sent on an errand, alone, hadn’t it? Something terrible. He should have considered that.

“No one’s going to hurt you, Pet,” Tony assured him, glancing up at a motion at the door, and seeing the soldier returning with a blanket that he handed to Stark diffidently. Tony draped it completely over the boy. “No one would dare hurt you. I wouldn’t let them.”

Peter nodded, but he closed his eyes and didn’t let go of the post.

“You might give him some wine,” the townsman suggested, not being socially aware enough to know that it wasn't proper to address someone of Stark’s rank without being asked, first. “It could get him to let go.”

“Or hug him,” the little girl added, leaning against her father’s leg. “I tried, but he didn’t let go.”

Stark rolled his eyes, but he looked back at Peter. He wasn't going to ply wine, now was he? Not after Peter had handled the last dose so poorly. He reached for the hand that was in the brace, and pulled it carefully away from the post.

“Come on,” he said, using his softest tone as he coaxed the boy to let go of the sturdy wood. “Let’s get you back to our room, hmmm? I’ll take care of you, Pet.”

Peter hesitated, but only for a moment, and then he turned and buried his face against Tony’s chest, arms going around him.

“I’m sorry…”

He was still shuddering when Stark wrapped his arms around him and picked him up as he stood.

“Shhh. Be quiet.”

He did as he was told, and Tony adjusted him enough that he was holding him, easily, with the boy’s head covered with the blanket and still against his chest. He looked at his aide.

“Reward them for being smart enough to come get help,” he told the man, gesturing to the townspeople as he started for the door.

“Yes, my Lord. Do I have a healer meet you in your rooms?”

“No. I’ll deal with this, myself.” Peter shivered, even wrapped in a blanket and Tony’s arms, and Tony brushed a kiss against his temple to reassure him that he wasn't annoyed. “Shh, Pet. I’ve got you.”

Then he headed toward the manor house.


	14. 14

Peter was silent the entire way back to the rooms, but he never stopped shaking, despite the occasional whispered reassurance Tony gave him as he carried him. With very little difficulty, he climbed the steps to his quarters, looking at his aide, who had caught up with him quickly, and had been opening and holding doors for him.

“Cancel everything else that I’m doing, today,” he ordered. “Have them draw me a bath and bring dinner, now.”

“Yes, my Lord.” He hesitated. “Anything else I can do?”

Stark appreciated the offer and allowed it to show, but he shook his head.

“No. Thank you.”

The aide left to do as he was told, and Tony carried Peter into the bedroom, closing the door behind him with his foot to give them privacy. Then he sat himself on the edge of the bed, cradling Peter’s shaking form in powerful arms. He pushed the blanket back, though, so he could see the young man’s eyes – but Peter simply buried his wet cheek and nose against Tony’s chest.

“I’m sorry…” he murmured, hiccupping, as Tony caressed his back and shoulders.

“You _should_ be,” Tony told him, pressing his lips against the boy’s ear, his fingers still comforting despite the words. “You’re so much trouble for me. Such a pain in my ass.”

It would have been painful, had the boy not grown so much closer to him the last few weeks and been able to recognize the warmth in his tone and touch that belied the comment. It didn’t mean that it wasn't _true_ , but he wasn't tensing in fear that his master would dump him on the floor and tell him to deal with it, and figure it out.

Peter sniffed, and the two of them were silent, simply holding onto each other. In the outer room, they could hear the sounds of servants bringing in water for the bath and setting the table with dinner. Only after the rooms were once again silent did Tony finally push Peter’s head away from his chest so he could look at him.

“Tell me what happened…”

Peter’s eyes were red and watery, and his face was flushed.

“I got scared. I thought they were going to… I’m not sure. Hurt me was all I could think of. Suddenly I just needed to get away and to hide, so I ran.”

“Did they say anything that made you think they were after you? That they were looking for you?”

“I don’t…” Peter fell silent, and Stark knew that he was using that incredible memory of his to go back to remember what he’d heard. “No. they were talking about how good it was going to be to leave for home, and speculating how long it would take – and which groups would be sent, first.”

“Nothing about you?”

“No.” he flushed. “I got scared for nothing.”

“Not for _nothing_ ,” Tony disagreed. “Obviously. I can’t blame you for being nervous about being alone – at least not right now.”

“I can’t hide in here, forever,” Peter said, exasperated with himself, now. “And you’re too important to have me following you like a timid puppy everywhere you go.”

“Not to mention, I have responsibilities for you,” Tony told him. “Things for you to do when I’m not around.”

“Yeah.” He trembled. “I mean… yes, _Master_.”

Tony snorted, amused, and took a handful of Peter’s hair, using it to pull his head back. He leaned down and kissed the boy, hard, his tongue forcing Peter’s lips to part and stabbing into his mouth to ravish him.

“You’re too delicious for your own good,” Tony said, finally, when he broke the kiss. “I put up with such insolence from you.”

Peter smiled, once more recognizing the love in his tone.

“I’m sorry, Master.”

“You’re a sorry slave, who forgets his place,” Stark told him, taking the blanket off, now, and then shifting Peter to stand him on his feet. “I _should_ punish you.”

The young man hesitated, tensing, and Tony pulled his shirt off, gesturing for Peter to do the same.

“But I’m not going to. Get undressed, Pet. Now.”

He did as he was told, leaving a pile of clothes at his feet in only moments, and Tony pulled him back against him, parting his knees to allow the boy to stand between them. He leaned forward, resting his forehead against Peter’s belly, and he felt the younger man’s fingers sifting through his hair. The trembling had stopped, so that was a start, anyway.

“Go check the bathwater and make sure it isn’t too hot.”

“Yes, Master.”

Stark released him and Peter left. Tony got up and undressed, then went out into the living room – and found Peter standing near the door to the bathing room.

“Well?” Stark asked. “Do we eat, first, and let the water cool a bit?”

“Whatever you want, Master.”

“How’s your stomach?”

“Tense,” he admitted.

“We’ll wait on dinner, then.” The food was being kept warm in a small brazier, so it wasn't going to suffer if they didn’t eat right away and a bath would relax both of them, nicely, he knew. He stepped up to Peter, looming over him and sliding his arms around his lean waist, hands coming down to cup his ass cheeks and spread them apart so he could put his finger along his crack. “Let’s go get comfortable.”

To Peter’s surprise, though, Tony got into the tub first, moving to the younger man’s customary spot against the end, and gesturing for him to join him, parting his knees to make it clear where he wanted him. The boy hesitated, taking off his brace so the leather wouldn’t get wet, and rubbing the hand to get an idea of how it felt.

“Master?”

“Get in the bath, Pet,” Tony ordered.

Peter did as he was told, and Stark’s hand came up as he did, the man’s strong grip supporting him, and also turning him around, so the boy was facing away from him. Then he put his arms around Peter and pulled him up against his chest, guiding his head down to rest against his neck. Peter was tense, uncertain about the different arrangement, but Tony crooned in his ear, running his hands along the boy’s chest and belly, soothingly.

Eventually the lithe body began to relax, and Peter sighed, giving himself up to the touch of his master.

“That’s better,” Stark murmured, reaching for the soap and cloth so he could start washing Peter’s pale skin. He was also able to feel just how thin he’d gotten the past few weeks. A skinny guy like Peter couldn’t afford to lose weight, really. “We’ll get you nice and relaxed, yes?”

“Yes, Master.”

He was already getting relaxed, coming down from the panic attack in the best possible way. The skilled touch of the older man having its effect on him. The fear from earlier seemed so ridiculous, now, but had been so very real. He didn’t know how to keep from being afraid, though. Who was afraid to go _outside_?

Obviously, Tony was thinking about that, too.

“I think I’ll have a guard assigned to you when my demands make it so you have to go out.”

“A guard?” Peter asked, sliding his right hand along Tony’s forearm.

“Someone near at hand in case you have another fit. He can call for help, if needed, and can keep you from running away.” Tony’s lips found Peter’s ear from behind. “You’re much too valuable to allow you to hurt yourself.”

Not to mention, a hulking soldier walking with him would act as a bodyguard and might make the boy feel safe enough to not have a fit in the first place – although Tony didn’t actually say it. Slaves don’t _have_ bodyguards, after all.

“Yes, Master. Thank you.”

Tony’s hand slid down Peter’s belly, lower, and found his penis, cupping it and fondling it, and the boy tensed, again, although this time it was for a much better reason. He made a pleased noise and turned his head, pressing a kiss against his master’s collarbone.

“Like that, do you?” Tony asked, rhetorically, amused at just how quickly his slave was reacting. That tiny penis was suddenly swelling and large, filling his hand and then some. “Feels good?”

“Yes…” Peter’s hands were on Tony’s bent knees, sliding along his calves and back up, but he couldn’t touch him very well in the position that he was in. “You take such good care of me, Master.”

“I’m _going_ to take care of you, Pet,” Tony promised, his own cock hard, too, and suddenly eager where it was pressed against the small of Peter’s back. “Lean forward.”

Peter did as he was told, moving from his position against Tony to grasp the other end of the tub, the action opening himself to Tony’s gaze – and his finger, which immediately slid into his hole, teasing him. The younger man groaned at the invasion, but knew something much bigger was to come, and he shivered in anticipation when Tony’s finger moved and Stark’s hands went to his hips to hold him.

“Guide me in,” Tony commanded him, and Peter reached between his legs, found Tony’s hard cock and slid it along his crack until it was against his entrance. He held it there until Tony pulled him down, and the head breached his ring of tight muscles, then put his hands on Stark’s, allowing his body weight and his master to bring him down, impaling him on that thick rod of flesh. “Yes…” Tony made an approving noise and wrapped his arms around Peter, holding him on his lap, cock twitching inside him. “That’s perfect, Pet.”

“Yes, Master.”

He waited for Tony to start thrusting, or to lift him to get the same motion, but the older man wasn't in any hurry. Instead, he rested his cheek on Peter’s shoulder and closed his eyes with a contented sigh.

“We’re going to stay just like this for a while,” he finally said, one arm holding Peter’s waist, firmly, while the other sought out and found the young man’s cock once more and began stroking it. “I’m going to see how many times I can get you off. You’re good with that, right?”

“Yes…”

Who _wouldn’t_ be?


	15. 15

“This should be pretty exciting.”

The big soldier standing beside Peter looked at him, curiously.

“Why do you say that?”

“The replacements are coming – and bringing the new governor to take over. You’re not excited?”

The man had been Peter’s bodyguard for two weeks, now, and was genuinely fond of the youngster. He was smart, obviously, and tough for a scrawny little guy. But he was also open and honest, and eager. All of those were things that were appreciated by a common soldier. Never mind that being his bodyguard whenever he was assigned to go out and about for Stark kept him from being assigned to some other, less interesting, or dirty, job.

Peter was willing to listen to what he was being told, and give his opinion when asked. Even more, when the men found that they had an unofficial bug in the ear of their supreme commander, they weren’t above mentioning the little annoying things that their own officers felt were beneath them to fix. The boy had been a soldier, he knew how rigid the chain of command was and how hard it was to have a grievance heard – especially if it was a real one, and unfair to the men.

There hadn’t been anything big; the men were in high spirits since the next day they were going to start turning over the city and the populace to the high ranking official the sultan had sent. It was no secret that he was coming; the scouts had seen his party approaching the day before, and had passed on the information to their fellows.

It was a large body of men and horses, meaning someone extremely high-ranking, probably a noble, although that was to be expected. They’d camped the day before less than five hour’s travel, even for a group that size, and would definitely be arriving soon.

Clearly, since Stark had had his aide make arrangements for a small reception for the official and his ranking staff members for that that evening, and quarters prepared so they’d have a place to refresh themselves before and after.

“You weren’t a soldier long enough to know that it’s a lot smarter for a common man to stay as far away from the nobility as possible, Peter,” the bodyguard told him with a smile. “Either that, or your sergeants did a shitty job of training you. That should have been your first lesson.”

Peter smiled back, shrugging.

“It’s still interesting.”

“It’ll be good to head home,” the older man agreed. “I’ll see you later.”

They were inside, now, and Peter didn’t need him lurking over his shoulder, keeping the demons away.

The soldier walked out of the door to Stark’s quarters, and almost immediately, Tony walked in. He looked Peter over, noting that his aide had found him some finer clothing in deference that he might find himself in front of one or more of their visitors that evening – although the boy didn’t actually have any responsibilities for the reception. There was a new bruise darkening Peter’s cheek, put there by Tony the night before, and he wasn't surprised when the younger man’s expressive eyes turned guarded at his arrival.

The night before, Peter had been sifting through the correspondences Tony had given him, while Tony had been working on a report. Both were sitting at the table, enjoying the quiet of the night before bed.

“Who is Grace, Master?” Peter had asked, looking at a letter that he’d scanned through, and was now reading more thoroughly.

Tony had frowned, looking up from what he was doing.

“A woman I know back home. Why do you ask?”

“She sent you a letter,” Peter had replied, handing it over to him. “She’s looking forward to your return and wanted you to know what she wants to do to you – and you to her.”

There was an odd quality to Peter’s voice and Tony read the letter, understanding why. It was very descriptive, and another time, he might have been excited to return home to her. Now, he wasn't so much. But he’d scowled at the disapproval in Peter’s expression, and was immediately defensive.

“I might do all of them,” he said, feeling a slight surge of satisfaction at the flash of hurt that Peter couldn’t hide.

“I’ll find a nice couch to sleep on.”

The blow had been automatic, the sound of his slap resounding through the empty room. Peter had been knocked off his chair, startled and wounded, and Tony’s eyes were furious.

“You forget your place,” he’d told Peter. “Just because I allow you some comforts, don’t think that you’re anything special. Do you understand?”

Tears welling in his eyes – it had been a hard slap and his head was ringing – Peter had nodded, staying on the floor where he’d fallen.

“Yes, Master.”

“Good. Finish what you’re doing and shut up.”

The boy had reclaimed his chair, and had picked up the pen he’d dropped. He started writing a response to a different letter, but was unable to suppress the occasional sniff, and tears were sliding down his cheek, which was a brilliant red from the slap. Still steaming, Tony had tossed the letter into the fire and returned to his report, but the atmosphere in the room was tense, and he didn’t know how to make it right, again.

He’d finally called it a night and had taken Peter to bed, making love to him, tenderly, but definitely noticing that the boy’s response wasn't as satisfying as it normally would be. He emptied himself into him and then pulled him close, but Peter wouldn’t look at him, and had pretended to fall asleep almost immediately.

That morning had been equally terse, but Tony didn’t have time to deal with hurt feelings of a bed slave. He had important guests coming, and made up busy work outside for Peter to get him out from underfoot.

“Our guests are arriving.”

“Yes, Master.”

“You’ll stay by my side.”

It was a boon for the boy; Tony’s way of making it up to him for his reaction. There was no real reason for Peter to be at the reception, but it might be something that he found exciting, and Tony wanted to see his eyes happy, again. Wanted him to moan with pleasure that night when he took him to the bathtub and played with him.

“Yes, Master.”

The response wasn't as excited as Tony would have preferred, but all he could do was scowl his displeasure. They had people waiting for them. Stark changed into a formal uniform, double-checked that his har – and Peter’s – was perfect, and led his young companion down to the great hall of the manor building, where a reception line was already beginning to form. All of Tony’s high-ranking officers were there, mingling with the newcomers, who were also generals and colonels – as well as a few civilians and the new governor, who was a tall man with a sharp face and a well tailored suit and a neatly trimmed mustache.

The room grew silent when Tony arrived, and everyone looked his direction. He didn’t mind; he was used to his rank garnering looks. With Peter walking beside him and a step back, Stark went over to meet the noble who was going to be taking control of the city that Tony had won for him. He smiled, politely, and offered the man his hand, ignoring Peter’s startled intake of breath behind him.

“Your Excellence.”

“Commander Stark,” came the ready, and friendly, reply. “How fares the city?”

“The buildings are being restored and the populace grows less restless every day. They won’t give you any trouble.”

The man’s smile was genuine. No one liked to walk into a tinderbox, after all.

“That’s good to hear.” The nobleman looked over Stark’s shoulder, and frowned. And then his eyes grew wide and he gasped. “ _Peter_? Is that you?”

It was Tony’s turn to frown as he turned to see who the man was addressing, and saw that it was, indeed, Peter. The boy looked just as surprised as the noble was.

“Uncle?”

Stark looked from one and then to the other.

“ _Uncle_?” he echoed.


	16. 16

Peter found himself engulfed in a hug as the nobleman dropped all formality and embraced him. He smiled, and hugged him back, the world blocked out for just a moment under the greeting. Then the other man pulled away.

“I’m not really his uncle, Commander,” he said, wiping a suspicious moisture from his face. “But I’ve known him since the day he was born. All six pounds of him.” The man hesitated, looking at Peter. “Your parents are dead, highness. I don’t know if you-“

_“Highness?”_

Peter ignored him, nodding.

“I know. I… the caravan was attacked by bandits. A _lot_ of them. The first thing my father did was strip my tunic off and take my ring. In case they caught me, they wouldn’t know who I was. Then he hid me in the tent under a stack of blankets – although I tried to help.”

“Your father was an intelligent man. And a brave one.”

Now it was Peter who had moisture in his eyes.

“He and my mother were both killed in the initial fight. I saw them when the raiders pulled me from the tent.”

“What happened?”

“They didn’t know who I was. They sold me off and I was taken to a market. Then sold to be a farm laborer. I was conscripted into the manor’s lord’s army when I was sixteen and up until a few days ago, I had no idea where I _was_ – or whose army I was even _fighting_ for.”

“So when Stark won the city?”

“He found me with the other captured soldiers.”

“Lucky thing.” The noble shook his head. “You might have ended up sold, again, and shipped off.”

Peter looked at Tony, and then back at his family friend.

“Yes. Lucky me.”

The man smiled, not missing the confusion on Tony’s face.

“You didn’t know who he was, did you, Stark?”

“I still _don’t_ , your excellence,” came the bland reply.

“He thought I was just another slave,” Peter said. “And kept me as such.”

“Why didn’t you tell him once you realized you were safe?”

“Would _you_ believe it?”

“No. That’s a good point.” The man put a hand on Peter’s bony shoulder, and turned his attention to Stark – and the others who had been watching with mingled shock and surprise. “Peter’s father is – _was_ a scholar. A learned man from a country far to the west of ours. A noble, of sorts, but also an adventurer who was determined to see the world before he settled down.” He smiled. “His _mother_ , on the other hand, is – _was_ – the youngest daughter of the Sultan’s father. Our current Sultan’s baby sister. Peter is his nephew.”

Stark couldn’t have been more surprised, of course, but he was able to keep most of that from his expression.

“That’s incredible, your excellence.”

“Yes. The Sultan is going to be amazed. And thrilled. I’ll have a letter dispatched, immediately, to let him know. There are going to be a lot of celebrations in the palace. Too bad I won’t be there to enjoy them.”

Peter smiled at that.

“I’ll make sure to send you some cake.”

“You do that.” He scowled at the clothing the boy was wearing. “Commander? We could probably find something better for him to wear, can’t we? That’s hardly fit for a prince.”

“A prince…” Tony echoed, shaking his head, slightly, and then nodding. “I’ll see to it personally.”

“Do that. Thank you. Peter? When this reception is done, come find me, alright? I want to make sure you’re truly healthy before I send his Majesty a letter telling him you’re coming home.”

“I will, uncle.”

Stark put his hand on Peter’s elbow.

“Come with me… your _highness_. Let’s get you changed.”

Peter allowed himself to be hustled out of the room, and Tony’s aide followed as the supreme commander of the Sultan’s army took him into a nearby room, scowling at the two servants who were preparing linens for the next morning at a table. He turned to his aide.

“Find some clothes and bring them here.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

The aide left, with the two confused servants and shut the door behind him, discreetly.

“Your highness?” Tony asked, allowing his shock to show.

“Technically, it’s _your Royal Highness_ ,” he replied. “My grandfather was a Sultan, after all. If we were cousins, it’d just be-“

“Shut up. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“When?” Peter asked. “The first day? It’s hard to speak when someone is shoving their dick down your throat, isn’t it? Besides, you wouldn’t have believed me. Probably would have beaten me for making up lies.”

“There were plenty of chances to-“

“No, there weren’t. I wasn't lying when I told uncle that I didn’t know where I was or who I was fighting for – or against. You know conscripted soldiers aren’t told anything. They just put a sword in their hand and point which way they want them to go. I’d never heard your name, so how was I supposed to know who you were?”

That brought Stark up short, because he was right about that.

“Still. You knew three days ago, you said. You could have told me, then.”

“I know. I had to figure out how to do it without sounding like a madman.”

“But you _didn’t_.”

“I was _going to_ – last night.”

Oh.

He glanced at the bruise on the boy’s cheek.

“You should have told me.”

“Well, now you know.” Peter shrugged. “Luckily for you, you _didn’t_ know. Because you can’t be punished for anything that you did while you thought I was a slave.”

“Technically, you’re _still_ a slave,” Tony told him, annoyed. “You’re on foreign soil and I haven’t turned over the city to the new governor. That makes you my property until I do. You’re no one, here, at this moment.”

“You’ve already proven to me what you think of me,” the boy pointed out. “Your argument is valid, but that would only apply to a _common_ citizen who is repatriated upon the return to their homeland. Royals have different allowances. I was a freeman the moment you took control of the city in my uncle’s name – we just didn’t know it, at the time.”

He knew the laws; he’d been taught them from the time he was old enough to understand what he was being told.

Stark scowled.

“We need to _talk_ about this.”

“About what? We’re _done_. You’ve had your amusements at my expense. Now I’ll go home and try to find my place, there, after being gone for so long, and you can spend your time with Grace and all the things she’s so eager to have you do to her.”

The older man started to say something, but there was a knock at the door and a small army of servants walked in, holding various outfits of fine silk, wool and leathers, clearly designed to allow the lost but now found prince a choice in what he wanted to wear.

“We’re _not_ done,” Tony told him, softly, moving aside. “I’m not ready to give you up.”

Peter just shrugged, and allowed himself to be swarmed over by the servants – something that he could only faintly remember ever having had done, before. There had been a lot of painful, hard, years between his happy childhood and the young man he was now, after all.

“Good luck with that.”

Stark left the room, and his aide followed – although he _did_ glance back at Peter, just as shocked as Tony about the sudden revelation of the boy’s true identity but obviously a lot happier about it than his boss.

Peter watched them go, but forced his attention from Stark back to what was happening. Tony couldn't touch him, now, and he wasn't going to miss being brutalized on a whim. He was honest enough to admit, however, that he might miss bath time.


	17. 17

“Do you need anything?”

Peter shook his head, looking down from the back of the bay mare that he’d been given to make the journey back home with the army. Royalty didn’t march with the common troops, after all, and the boy had declined a sedan chair, or a wagon. He hadn’t been on the back of anything more spirited than a plow horse in seven years, but riding was something he’d been taught before he could walk, and it was coming back to him, quickly.

“I’m set, uncle. Thank you.”

He was wearing traveling clothes; mostly leather, pants, a vest and a jacket, because the weather was a little chilly, still, and he had a warm woolen shirt under them all. At his side was the guardsman that Tony had initially charged to be Peter’s bodyguard when he went outside. The man was seated uncomfortably on a large gelding still somewhat surprised to find that he was now guarding a prince, rather than a slave, but he was cheerful about having been singled out to be part of the escort that would see Peter home.

Around them was a large force of men, all calvary and all tough-looking, brimming with weapons and the casual competence that came with being the best and knowing it. They weren’t regular army troops, either; rather this was a group of men who reported to the Sultan, himself. They were commanded by a nobleman, as well – a distant relative of Peter – and he was charged with seeing the boy safely to the Sultan’s side. The new governor was sending them all with Peter to make sure no one interfered with his return.

Including Supreme commander Tony Stark.

Peter hadn’t told his ‘uncle’ everything that had happened between him and Tony, but the man wasn't stupid and was well aware of the common uses of slaves. Especially young and pretty ones like his nephew. He had watched, covertly, as Stark had watched Peter during the reception the night Peter’s identity had been revealed, and had noticed that the commander didn’t appear particularly pleased at the change in his slave’s status. He’d also made sure to keep the boy by his side the entire evening – and had promptly found him quarters that were next to his own, and guarded by his own men,

Not that he really expected the man to do something _foolish_. Stark was a well-respected commander of the Sultan’s army. He was responsible for the victory they’d just had, and the end of a long conflict. He was also loyal to the sultan and to his line – which he now knew included Peter. The nobleman wasn't worried that Tony was going to try to injure the young prince, he just didn’t want Peter to have to deal with any unwanted attentions.

Peter’s night had been spent in comfort, and from what the new governor had been told, the boy had slept the night through. Now, though, he was leaving, and just to make sure his trip home was just as comfortable and stress free, there had been steps taken. It would be almost three weeks to get home, even with speed of the calvary troops, since they would stay with the bulk of the army, just to give those men walking some back up in case anyone in the countryside hadn’t heard that the war was finished and decided to try anything against the outlying soldiers. Those three weeks should be worry free and give Peter a chance to catch his breath – and gain some weight back.

“Make sure you stop in and see my wife when you get home,” the man told the boy. “I sent her a letter when I sent the Sultan’s. She’s going to be so excited to see you.”

“I will, uncle.” The young man leaned down and shook his hand, smiling when he heard the order to the men to move out. “Thank you.”

The mare frisked sideways, and Peter turned her toward the vanguard of the large body of men and supplies. The calvary arranged themselves around him – although the new governor waved their commander over to him.

“Nobody fucks with him,” Peter’s uncle said. “You keep your eye on him at all times. If Stark – or anyone else – tries to so much as tell him to tie his shoes, you come down hard on them. I don’t care what. He’s been through enough; I want him home in one piece and without incident.”

“I’ll take good care of him,” the commander assured him.

“Thank you.”

The commander saluted, and then moved to put his large stallion in formation right beside Peter so he could have someone interesting to talk to on the long ride.

The governor watched them for a moment, and then turned back to the city. He had a lot to do.

><><><><><>

“Well?”

The aide shook his head.

“He declined your invitation, my Lord.”

Stark scowled, but he wasn't surprised. It wasn't the first invitation that he’d sent to Peter, asking him to have dinner with him, since the army had started the long trip home – and every one of them had been declined. Politely, the aide told him, but the boy didn’t seem to be at all interested in seeing him.

“You talked to him, _personally_?”

“I did, my Lord.”

“How did he look?”

“My Lord?”

“Is he getting enough sleep? Have you seen his hand? Are they making sure that he’s eating?”

The aide nodded.

“He seems well enough, my Lord. His hand still has the brace on it, but the red marks on his neck seem to be faded into nothing more than a slight scar.”

“Did he say anything about me?”

“No, my Lord.”

Tony had tried to see Peter, himself, the first night they stopped to make camp. It hadn’t been difficult to find the tent that had been erected for the boy to share with the calvary officers, but he hadn’t been allowed any closer than the fire outside the entrance. Two guards were polite, but firm, as they told Stark that no one was allowed in to see the prince. Tony had given them a direct order to move aside and the oldest one had actually had the audacity to smirk at him and remind him that he didn’t have the authority to order him to do anything.

He reported directly to his commander, who reported directly to the Sultan.

Stark had turned on his heel and stormed off, furious, and had returned to his own tent, which was on the other side of the large camp. He suspected, now, that the placement of the tent Peter was in had been specifically designed to be as far away from his own as possible, and that rankled him. He’d sent a letter to the calvary commander via his aide, who had returned with a reply, apologizing for the actions of his men, but advising the Supreme commander that his own orders had been to specifically keep Peter from being stressed and that included keeping him away from the man who had been playing the part of master to him for the couple of months.

_“If he wants to see you, I can’t stop him,”_ the letter had read. _“But if he doesn’t want to, then no force on earth will make him. I’ll see to it.”_

Noblemen were so annoying, sometimes, Stark thought, angrily, as he’d tossed the letter into his fire.

He’d spent the first week of their journey home angry. Angry with Peter. Angry with himself for not just selling him off, rather than being so kind to him and protecting him. For pampering him. Angry with whatever god had decided that Tony would meet the perfect slave for him, only to have that slave turn out to be someone completely different – and utterly out of reach, now.

He’d spent the second week sulking.

Not that any of his commanders would dare call it that – and he, of course, didn’t see it that way – but he rode at the front of his army every day, only a few horses away from where Peter rode with a protective barrier of calvary men and their lances between the boy and anyone who wasn't allowed to be close to him. He watched as Peter spoke with the commander of that group, and smiled at him whenever the man would say something amusing, and he ached to have the boy smile at him like that.

They hadn’t had enough time together, Tony thought, watching as another of the calvary officers showed Peter a dagger that he’d pulled off a defeated enemy. The boy had been impressed by it, and had tested the weight of it while listening intently to the story. Was he watching too intently? Stark wasn't worried about Peter having a relationship with the calvary commander; he knew the man was a relative of Peter’s, but there were several young men, closer to Peter’s age, who were officers and nobles of some sort, for the most part. What if Peter fell for one of them? What if it was one of them who held him at night? Or bathed him? Or had Peter’s hands caressing him?

He hadn’t had the time that he’d needed to ensure Peter’s affections, and now it might be (probably _was_?) too late. He should have spent less time berating him and more time winning him over. Making him want to be with Stark, and _only_ with Stark. He actually felt a pang when Peter tried to hand the dagger back and the handsome young calvary officer had waved it aside, telling the boy to keep it, since he didn’t have a dagger of his own. Peter’s smile had been like sunshine.

What had Tony ever given him? Stark wondered. He could have showered him with gifts and made much of his brilliance, rather than just use him to sort through boring letters.

Tony was beside himself, and didn’t know what to do to make things right. Clearly inviting him to dinner wasn't working, but neither was anything else. He couldn’t get close enough to the boy to even say three words to him, and it was clear that the calvary officers intended to keep it that way.

He was going to have to think of something, he decided, moodily, watching as yet another calvary officer started telling the boy about his exploits in battle. He was already tired of sleeping alone and the new slave that his aide had acquired for him did nothing for him. So much so that Tony pretty much ignored the youngster and left him to his own devices.

He didn’t want any other slave.

Tony wanted his Pet.


	18. 18

“How are you feeling?”

Peter smiled at his uncle, recognizing the sincerity in the question. He’d been home almost two weeks, now, and the Sultan had taken personal interest in his integration back into his family and the life that he’d lived before the trip that had changed his fortunes so drastically.

“I’m good, uncle,” he said, holding up the hand that was now healed enough that it didn’t even require the brace, any longer. It still ached, sometimes – as did his throat – but there was no loss of mobility or use of his fingers, as the healers had been concerned there would be. They’d done an excellent job of taking care of the injury. “Still a little shocked to be home after so long believing I was never going to see any of you, again.”

“We are glad to have our lost branch restored to our tree,” the Sultan replied. He hesitated, then. “I had an interesting conversation with Commander Stark, last night.”

Peter raised an eyebrow, but didn’t freak out as his uncle probably feared that he would.

“Oh? About what?”

“You. I owe him a boon, for saving you and for winning my war. He suggested that he be allowed to continue his relationship with you.”

“I-“

Peter must have paled, because the Sultan smiled, reassuringly, and raised his hand to forestall whatever he was going to say.

“Don’t look so panicked, nephew,” he said. The Sultan, of course, knew much of what had happened between Peter and Tony. Not the details; he wouldn’t ask his nephew that, but he had slaves, of course, and while the household slaves were well fed and treated kindly, for the most part, he knew that such was rarely the case – and the reaction Peter just gave confirmed that Stark wasn't a man to be kind to his playthings. “I reminded him that the blood of kings and gods flow through your veins and you are not anyone’s property. Nor will you ever be, again.”

“What did he say?” Peter asked.

“He advised me that I was thinking of the wrong relationship. Stark told me that he was impressed with your military acumen – not surprising, considering who your father was, of course – and he was thinking that you would make a good intern for him. He doesn’t have one, specifically, and the man has much he could teach someone young enough to be willing to learn.”

“His intern?”

“It is up to you, of course,” the Sultan said. “But I know you aren’t sure what you want to do, now that you’re home, and the time when your parents would have guided you through that decision has long come and gone. There are other apprenticeships we could find for you. You’re too intelligent to become a blacksmith, though, so don’t even consider that.”

That made Peter smile, as it almost certainly was intended to.

“What would it entail?”

‘I suspect that is something the two of you would discuss. But I’ll tell you this now, son of my beloved and sorely missed sister; I will make sure he understands, personally, that if I see so much as a bruise on you, I’ll have his hands chopped off. Military genius or no, I won’t have you put through what you’ve already gone through with him. If not for the fact that I, personally, think he’s right about where your strengths are, and that you’d do amazingly well with the military, I’d say you should just become a priest, or something, but he’s getting older, and eventually I’m going to need a new warlord when he retires. Or my son will. If anyone could teach you the trade of war and how to lead men, it is commander Stark.”

“Oh.”

“Think about it, nephew.”

“I will, uncle. Thank you.”

The Sultan smiled.

“I suppose you could become a _farmer_.”

Peter snorted, amused at the suggestion – although his time as a laborer probably had him as prepared as he needed to be to grown beans and potatoes. He certainly could afford the land, couldn’t he?

“I’ll pass.”

><><><><><

“You have a visitor, my Lord.”

The aide looked smug, but Tony wasn't in the mood for any visitor. Especially not at his home. He was in a foul mood and had sent everyone from his room, leaving himself alone to brood in peace and quiet, and wishing – as he did many times a day – that Peter was there to hold.

“Tell them to come back another time. I don’t want to see anyone, right now.”

“Not even a prince?”

Tony frowned.

“A prince?” There was only one prince that would have the man looking so cheerful. “He’s here? Peter?”

“Waiting for me to allow him admittance.”

Stark felt a hope rising in him, and he sat up, looking much less annoyed.

“Send him in. And close the door behind you.”

“Of course, my Lord.”

He walked away, and Tony was almost certain he heard the man say ‘and try not to scare him away;, but he wasn't sure – and he had no intention of doing anything of the sort. He ran his hands, automatically, down the simple shirt that he was wearing, to make sure he was presentable, and then looked at the entrance, expectantly.

Sure enough, a moment later, Peter came walking through the door. Tony stood.

“Peter. You look good.”

He did, too. The hand wasn't in its brace, any longer, and he’d gain a little of their weight that he’d lost when he’d been hurt. His hair was neatly combed and trimmed, and he was wearing a high-necked shirt that covered the scarring on his neck. He looked amazing, if not a little wary.

“Thank you, commander Stark.”

“Can I offer you a drink?” Tony asked, not missing the formality, but just happy to see him, so he definitely wasn't going to complain. “Something to eat?”

“No. I appreciate it. My uncle says that you want me to become your apprentice.”

“You’re too _old_ to be an apprentice,” Stark said. “But a brain like yours shouldn’t be wasted becoming a priest, or a grocer. I pointed out to your uncle that there is a lot I could teach you. With my tutelage, you could become even better than I am.”

“He told me. I’m not convinced that would be a good idea, but I appreciate you thinking of me.”

“What? Why wouldn’t it?” Tony stepped forward, now. “ _You’re_ brilliant. _I’m_ brilliant. I’m not going to beat you, I promise. It wasn't _personal_ , you know? It’s-“

He was interrupted when Peter lashed out at him, taking even the Supreme Commander by surprise by the blow. The slap went across Stark’s cheek, actually rocking him back a step by just how hard the boy had swung. Being a farmhand and then a soldier had left him a lot stronger than it looked.

“Of _course_ it was personal,” the boy said. “It might not have been for you, but it was for me. How did you like that, Tony? A blow from nowhere, for no real reason? Just because I have a hair up my ass, or I’m in a foul mood, or just because I want to see how much I can hurt you? It’s _personal_.” All the anger and the hurt from the abuse that he’d suffered at the hands of the commander were coming to the fore, now. “If our roles were reversed, and you were still my master, you’d be ordering me around, right now. Sort through my mail, Pet, check the bathwater, Pet, suck my cock, Pet…”

“Order me around, then,” Stark said, rubbing his cheek. “Fair is fair.” He dropped to his knees, reaching for Peter’s trousers and pulling the boy closer. “I don’t have any mail to sort, and the bath is dry, so I’ll start with the one I can do, right now.”

“Tony…” Peter tried to step back, uncertain about the turn the conversation had taken, but Stark had hold of his pants and _he_ was strong, too. Strong enough to hold him still with one hand, while the other undid his fastener and allowed his pants to fall to the floor to tangle in Peter’s boots. “Don’t.”

“You already told me to,” he said, leaning forward at the same time he pulled Peter even closer, his mouth unerringly finding the boy’s penis and closing over it. He made an approving noise and started slurping on the limp organ, while Peter grabbed a handful of the man’s hair for support, initially intending to pull him off, but freezing in mid-motion. He wanted to, but for the moment he couldn’t move away.

“Shit…”


	19. 19

He wasn't gentle. The grip that Peter had on his hair was painful, and implacable. The boy held him close, his hips beginning to pump, slowly at first, and the faster and harder as Tony worked his cock, getting it harder, and larger and more demanding. It was soon bumping the back of his throat with each thrust, causing him to choke each time, trying to catch his breath in between the motions. Peter didn’t notice his distress, or didn’t care, and Stark was gasping and light-headed by the time the younger man finally erupted, driving his cock deep and forcing a load of cum down his throat.

“Swallow it. Every fucking drop.”

Tony gagged, again, but he did as he was told, sucking as well as he could, his throat working furiously as he tried to obey and still manage to breath. Peter held still for a long moment, and then finally pulled back, looking down at the war leader.

“That was satisfactory,” he told the older man. His grip loosened, but not by much, and his fingers were still wrapped in Tony’s hair. “Do it, again. This time with more enthusiasm.”

Tony started to protest; he’d made his point, but Peter’s still aroused cock was once more nudging the back of his throat, and he found himself forced to focus on taking a breath every chance he got as that hard rod once more began pummeling his mouth and throat. Peter’s cock was sheened with Tony’s saliva; it was drooling down Stark’s chin, soaking the front of his shirt and down further, into his lap. Despite the agony of what he was doing, Tony’s cock was beginning to swell, but he couldn’t focus any attention on his own desires as Peter fucked his mouth almost violently, his face getting flushed with growing desire, until the older man was certain that he was going to climax, again, and was trying to time it so he could swallow in between breaths.

The boy surprised him, then, when he suddenly pulled back, his cock popping out of Tony’s mouth with a slurping noise and a string of drool that stretched from his lips to Peter’s balls.

“Does it feel personal, yet?” the younger man asked, pulling Tony’s shirt up and off in a single motion. He didn’t bother to let him off his knees. Instead he dropped down to his level, and when Tony started to reach for him, perhaps to embrace him, or maybe to fight him, Peter reached for the commander’s pants, unfastening them and pulling them down to the man’s knees, freeing his cock, which was throbbing and eager, now.

“Peter…”

“Shut up.” It was as harsh as any of the countless times Stark had told him that same phrase, and Tony almost flinched. “Get them off.”

Tony pulled his pants down and off, taking his boots with them and then stroking himself as he looked at Peter, who had watched, but didn’t assist in any way.

“You made your point,” Stark told him. “I was a bastard. I _get_ it.”

“Not yet, you haven’t.” He stood up, pulling his own trousers up with one hand, and grabbing a handful of Tony’s hair with the other. That convenient handhold helped him practically drag Tony to the sofa, the older man too dazed by the change in the placid boy to do more than allow it. Besides, he was sure that when Peter had burned his way through his anger, it would be Tony’s turn for relief. “Present yourself.”

His jaw literally dropped.

“What?”

“Do it.”

“Peter… this is-“

His attempt at reasoning was cut off by another slap – even harder than the last, since Tony’s cheeks were wet with tears from the painful blowjob he’d administered. It stung. It didn’t cow the larger man, but he was startled enough by the fury of the blow that he allowed Peter to pull his head around by that handful of hair, one more, and force him to bend over the arm of the sofa.

Stark tried to protest as he felt his legs nudged apart. He tensed when he felt Peter move up between them, felt his ass cheeks spread and something hard, and hot, slide along his crack. The only moisture was Tony’s own spit, and he moaned in true discomfort when the boy forced himself into him with a series of thrusts that weren’t designed to be gentle.

Without giving him a chance to acclimate to the incursion, Peter pulled back, slamming into him with a hard motion that took Tony’s breath away. His head was pulled back, then, by Peter’s hand in his hair and the boy began to ruthlessly fuck him, driving in deep with every thrust, and slamming Tony into the arm of the couch, painfully, until he was truly crying with the pain of it, although he refused to give him the satisfaction of crying out.

Peter’s breathing was coming ragged, once more, and the boy leaned forward with a final hard thrust, his cock exploding in a climax that painted Tony’s insides with cum that felt like it was burning him alive. Before he could do more than gasp at the sensation, Peter leaned forward, his hot breath on Stark’s neck, and he bit him, hard – just shy of hard enough to draw blood.

Definitely hard enough to leave a mark.

He was still for a long moment, catching his breath and clearly in no hurry to give up his prize. Stark was beginning to worry that he’d demand another round. Peter was young, after all, and could go several times before he was truly satisfied and satiated.

Tony knew; he’d forced more than one orgasm from the boy.

“Did that feel _personal_?” Peter asked, sliding slowly from Tony’s gaping ass and pushing himself away as he reached to pull up his pants and fasten them. He didn’t wait for an answer, and the older man was too distracted by how much it had hurt to be able to form a reply. “I’ll think about your offer of an internship,” Peter said, almost conversationally, as he moved around to stand in front of Tony, whose head hung, exhausted. “And let you know.”

With that, he left, letting himself out and closing the door, firmly behind him. Tony heard him talking to his aide, indistinctly, but he couldn’t hear what was being said. Whatever it was, no one entered the room, and the Supreme Commander finally caught his breath and gingerly got to his feet, his thighs and rear aching, fiercely – as was his jaw. He ran his fingers along his neck as he bent over to pick up his pants and after several tries managed to get them on. Then he walked over to the door and opened it, leaning on the doorframe.

His aide was waiting, and was clearly surprised by his appearance.

“My Lord?”

“Have a bath prepared,” Tony ordered, his voice slightly raspy and the flavor of Peter still on his tongue. “Please.”

The man nodded.

“Right away, my Lord.”

Tony sighed and went back to the sofa to wait to be told it was ready, but he definitely didn’t sit down, just yet.

He ached something fierce.


	20. 20

“Rider coming…”

Peter turned, looking over his shoulder and following the gaze of one of his bodyguards. Sure enough, there was a lone figure on horseback trotting their general direction. He pulled up on the reins of his horse, and the small group of men who were tasked with the responsibility of keeping him safe when he was out riding all did the same. They watched, the morning sun warming them, as the lone rider drew closer, and turned out to be Tony Stark.

“Wonder what he wants…” one of the men mused, looking at the prince, uncertainly.

They didn’t all know Peter had a history with Stark; most of them knew that it was Tony who had rescued him from the enemy army, however, and they did all know that they’d been told that as Peter’s bodyguards, they weren’t under the Supreme Commander of the Sultan’s army, they were under the Sultan’s orders, instead. Meaning, they didn’t answer to _Tony_ , but to their king. And to Peter, as his nephew.

The boy shrugged.

“We’ll have to see.”

They waited, and Stark rode up, looking at the men, first, but then he only had eyes for Peter and he bowed, as formally as he could on horseback.

“Your highness.”

The boy nodded, politely.

“Commander.”

“I heard you were riding, and wondered if I might join you.”

When Peter had returned home, he’d been told that the lands that traditionally had belonged to his mother had been parceled out, since she and his father were dead, and everyone had assumed their son was, as well. It wasn't a big deal to the boy, since his memories of the estate were the memories of his childhood, and all connected to his parents. He was fine with not staying in that house, any longer.

His uncle had given him a smaller estate, one fit for a young man of noble blood and wealth, but without a family to need lands to support. It was close to the royal city, but still considered to be countryside, and Peter had been getting to know the area, and the people who lived there – even though he still stayed in the palace, for now.

“Of course.”

The older man drew his horse next to Peter’s as they started out, again, his guards trailing behind to keep an eye on things, but to give them privacy, if it were needed.

“It’s nice out here…” Tony said, wanting to draw him into conversation. “Your uncle chose well for you.”

Peter nodded his agreement.

“I like it. It’s pretty.” He looked over at Stark. “How are you doing?”

“Meaning how am I staying in the saddle when my ass aches like a sonofabitch?”

The boy didn’t smile, but his eyes were amused – and a little uncertain. He hadn’t been sure how the older man would respond to the way he’d treated him – and he wasn't even sure _why_ he’d allowed him to do it, in the first place. Peter was strong for his size and stature, but he was still smaller and weaker than Tony, and he was sure that the trained soldier could have kept him from brutalizing him as he had.

He hadn’t even gone there intending to do it, but Stark had triggered him, and he’d snapped. The sex had been intense, but unfulfilling, and he’d been confused about the whole mess since he’d walked out of the older man’s home – alternating between shocked at his own behavior and vindicated. Neither were comfortable emotions for him.

“Does it?”

“You know it _does_.” Tony scowled, shifting in the saddle at the reminder of the fact that he _did_ still ache. Peter hadn’t been gentle, at all, and he’d felt even worse the next morning – despite a long soak in the tub and then a massage. It had been an object lesson that he wasn't going to forget, any time soon, however. And a bit of insight as to how the boy must have felt. “You’re pretty good at making your point of view understood.”

He remembered telling Peter to stop crying, that he hadn’t hurt him so badly, that first night he’d had him, but he probably _had_ , he realized, and it made him ache. Not _sorry_ – he had thoroughly enjoyed himself with the boy, and didn’t regret it – but he ached at the thought of how callous he’d been about the pain that he’d caused him.

It was a wonder Peter didn’t hate him more than he did, really.

But _Tony_ didn’t hate Peter. He was absolutely enamored of him and wanted more time with him. A _lot_ more time with him. That he was a prince and not a slave was a drawback in many ways, of course – since it meant that he couldn’t force him to do what he wanted any more. But it was also an unexpected boon. Peter could be the protégé that Tony had been seeking. He could be a partner like no slave ever could. He could be a lover – although now he had to be a _willing_ one. He wasn't a nameless slave, now.

Stark just needed to convince Peter that the prince wanted to be with him as much as Tony _wanted_ him to be with him. Which would be tricky, he knew, all things considered. The abuse he’d taken from the boy hopefully was the pound of flesh Peter needed to extract to feel like he’d gotten even with him for some of it, but Tony knew he’d doled out far more than Peter had.

But it hadn’t _all_ been bad. Stark just had to figure out a way to remind him of _that_ , too.

“I’m sorry if I hurt you, much.”

Not sorry that he’d _hurt_ him, though, Tony knew. He could hear it in his tone.

“I’m sorry I hurt you, too, Peter. I _am_. I wasn't considering what I was doing to you, and that’s on me.” It wasn't an admission that he’d make to many people – maybe _no_ other people. Peter just shrugged, clearly not ready to talk about it. He looked down at his mare’s ears, and Stark spoke, again, rather than allow the silence to get uncomfortable between them. “How are you doing?” he asked. “The hand, and your throat, I mean?”

The boy held his right hand up, wiggling the fingers to show the dexterity.

“It’s good. The palace healers said that _your_ healers probably saved me from permanent injury. My throat still aches, sometimes, but they said it might always be like that. They can’t do much to heal it beyond what has already been done.” He hesitated. “Thank you for having them take such good care of me.”

“You’re welcome.” He felt a little pleased about that. It wasn't the normal treatment that a slave would have received, after all “The bodyguards…? Are you still nervous about being outside alone?”

Peter nodded, but then he shrugged.

“I _am_. But these are my uncle’s men, rather than my own choice. He’s probably worried about me getting lost, or something – or someone not recognizing me and trying to run me off land that’s technically my own.”

“Has that happened?”

“Once, in the palace.” Peter’s smile was self-deprecating. “I took a wrong turn and ended up in a closet, and a servant saw me coming out of it and asked what I was up to – probably thought I was stealing something. It was cleared up, quickly, though.”

Tony smiled, too.

“How are you adjusting?”

“It’s a lot different. I could sleep all day if I wanted to, now, but I can’t stay still that long.” Another shrug. “I just need to get used to it, is all.”

The commander nodded. And hesitated.

“Have you thought more about my offer?”

“It’s _all_ I think about.”

“And?”

“It’s a good opportunity.”

“You don’t sound too sure of that.”

“I’m certain of the opportunity. It’s _you_ I’m still not so sure of.”

Stark sighed, exasperated.

“Why don’t you give it a try? A trial run. My men aren’t needed anywhere, immediately, and we’re probably going to take the next few months to heal our remaining wounded, train our recruits and get our equipment back to top condition. You can watch me supervise that. I’ll tell you what they’re doing and why, and we’ll see how it goes…?”

The boy didn’t look completely convinced, and he allowed it to show.

“And if I decide it’s not for me?”

“Then you become a merchant, I suppose. Or a _priest_. But it won’t be because of me.”

“Fine.” He almost changed his mind when he saw how pleased the commander looked at his capitulation, but decided that it wasn't a malicious expression; he just looked happy. “When would I start?”

“Meet me at the armory tomorrow after breakfast.”

“The armory? Why?”

“You’ll see.”

“Alright.”

Stark smiled, and then turned the conversation to other things, not wanting to push his luck. He had a chance, now, and he didn’t want to screw it up by being too eager. He just allowed himself to enjoy the company of the young man and the luxury of having a day to do nothing more than ride through the countryside.

Now that he'd committed to getting back to work, he was going to have to start getting up early, again.


	21. 21

The Supreme Commander of the sultan’s army was in the quartermaster’s office in the armory when his aide ushered his new intern (on a trial basis) into the room. Tony didn’t smile upon Peter’s arrival, but his expression was light and cheerful – which he was sure his men found much more preferable than the moodiness that had plagued him the past couple of months. Both during their travels home, and when they’d arrived.

Stark introduced the young man to the royal army quartermaster, and then asked the man and his own aide to leave them for a moment. He needed to have a discussion with Peter and preferred it to be in private. Both men left without comment and Tony leaned against the quartermaster’s desk, looking at the boy.

“Your uncle came by my quarters to see me this morning.”

Peter couldn’t tell by his now guarded expression of that was a good thing or a bad. And he wasn't sure what response was most appropriate.

“Oh?”

Tony nodded.

“He wanted to remind me, he said, that our dynamic has changed drastically from the last time we worked together, and to make sure I understood his expectations.”

“Oh.”

“I have a few expectations of my own, however, and I want to make sure you understand them – and the reason for them. That way there isn’t any confusion between the two of us. Or your uncle.”

Peter nodded.

“Like what?”

“I’m _not_ going to call you highness – and you’re going to call me sir, or commander at all times.”

“Because the men under you need to never feel that there is anything off with the chain of command,” Peter said, nodding his understanding. “You’re the supreme commander, and I’m – at worst – and untried son of a noble, and – at best – a poorly trained defeated enemy soldier. Obviously I’m not in any position to give orders to them and we need to make sure that stays clear to them.”

Tony nodded, approvingly. Proof that Peter wasn't an idiot, and had clearly learned from the books that he’d read.

“Exactly. Very good.”

Peter flushed at the praise.

“What else?”

“You never argue with me in front of the men. _Ever_. For the same reason.”

“Right.

“If you have a question, save it for when we’re alone, and ask me then.”

“So it doesn’t look like I’m question _what_ you’re doing – as opposed to _why_?”

“Correct.”

The boy nodded.

“I’ll remember that. Commander.”

“Good.” He was also pleased at the address, since there was no indication that it was anything but respectful. “You’ll be addressed by my men as sir, because formality does have to be maintained with them, and I’ll address you as Peter.”

“I can live with that.”

“Good. I’m going to have our weapons master teach you to use a sword, some hand to hand, and probably a bow. You said it yourself; a conscripted soldier is handed a sword and pointed in a particular direction and told to fight. I need you to be much better than that.”

Peter nodded, again.

“I was being taught sword and hand to hand when I was a boy – before my parents were killed. When I was conscripted, the trainers were certain I was useless with a blade, because I kept trying to put it on my left hand and I’m awkward with my right.”

“Yes. I noticed your predominant hand is the left. Did you fight with the left or the right?”

“The left.”

“It probably saved your life a dozen times over,” Tony said, more to himself than to Peter. “Fighting someone with their sword in the wrong hand would screw with a soldier’s training on their defenses. We’ll make sure the weapons master is aware of your preference, and have you instructed in both hands – just to make you as dangerous as possible on the battlefield.”

Peter didn’t argue. He was a perfectionist, after all, and liked the idea of learning those things.

“Sounds good, commander.”

“If you allow yourself to get beat up in your hand to hand lessons – and you’re almost certainly going to get beat up, a bit – make sure your uncle knows why.”

“I will.”

“Good. Any questions for me before we get our day started?”

“No. If I come up with anything, I’ll ask later, in private. Thank you.”

Tony nodded, and led his protégé out the door, and then he, the quartermaster, Peter and his aide went to meet other supply officers so they could get an idea of what each unit might need to have repaired or replaced in the following weeks.

><><><><><

It was a long day.

The army was vast, and while Tony had officers trained to take care of the daily matters of keeping things in line for so many men, he was the one ultimately responsible for the training, supplying and well-being of those men. Which meant that he needed to know what everyone was working on, or doing, and what needed to be addressed, immediately, and what was able to wait until the proper supplies could be brought to take care of whatever issue it was.

For the first day Peter was shadowing him, Tony was working with supplies. The army required weapons, uniforms, horses and everything that came with the care and maintenance of them, boots, food, medical care and countless other things to keep it running smoothly. Tony had lists from the quartermaster; requests for all things military related, and tallies of what they had, and what the man had ordered, what was already there, and what still hadn’t been delivered. He dealt with all of them efficiently and without giving any sign that making sure the men had something to wash their asses with wasn't beneath his dignity.

They took a break for a quick lunch, and then went back to work, and by the time the commander had finally called it a day and dismissed the quartermaster, Peter was exhausted, and Tony was tired and ready to relax.

“Bored, yet?” he asked the boy walking beside him, as they headed for the commander’s administrative headquarters.

This was the complex of buildings that housed all of the aides, the commanding officers and everything needed to support them. Kitchen, bathhouses, salle, a private armory and many other things. It was also where Tony’s quarters were – as well as the small set of plain, but comfortable, rooms that Peter would be staying in, rather than making the long trek to and from the palace every day. Or the even longer one to his estate.

“Not bored,” Peter said, shaking his head. “It’s fascinating.”

“Say that in another month,” Tony challenged him, with a slight smile. “Are you hungry?”

The boy nodded, and they went to Tony’s quarters, where his aide had already ordered food set up for them. The other man left the two alone, politely wishing them a goodnight, and excused himself to go find his own dinner.

“Any questions?” Stark asked as they settled at the table to eat.

“Not, yet. It’s a lot of paperwork, though.”

“An army of this size runs on a vast sea of paperwork,” Tony agreed. “It’s necessary.”

“No wonder you’re so stressed.”

It was the first reference to their previous relationship that either of them had made that entire day – beyond their initial discussion.

“Yes. _You_ will be, too, most likely, once you get into the swing of things.” He looked at the boy, his expression changing. “Do you have a stress reliever available to you?”

Meaning a body slave, Peter knew.

He shrugged.

“My uncle had several presented to me when I came home – male and female. For obvious reasons, I’m uncomfortable with having a slave serving me in that capacity, so I declined their company.”

“What are you doing, then?” Tony asked. “Whose company are you keeping?”

He had to ask. Only because he wanted to know if anyone had caught the boy’s eye, yet. One of the officers from the cavalry or maybe some noble’s son – or daughter, even? He was royalty, after all, and although far enough down in the line for the throne that he wasn't a threat to any of the heirs, there might be pressure for him to marry and produce a few children, eventually.

“None at the moment,” Peter admitted.

“None?”

“Nope. Just me any my left hand – although sometimes I mix it up and use my _right_.”

Tony smirked at that.

“I can relate.”

“I doubt it. You have Grace.”

“No. I _had_ her. Once or twice.” _Several_ times, really, but all in the same three-day orgy upon his return home. He’d been frustrated, angry and horny as hell and she’d been available and willing. “She wanted much more than I was ready to give her, so we parted ways.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not.”

“So what are _you_ doing? To keep from stressing, I mean.”

“The same as you, for the most part.”

“You don’t have a slave?” he looked around, as if just realizing that.

“I _do_. But he gets very little exercise, these days. He pales compared to you, and I hate to settle for second best.”

Peter flushed at the implied compliment – and the reminder of them being together.

“Oh.”

“Let me ask you something…” Tony said, suddenly. “Did you like what you did to me?”

“I’m not proud of my actions,” Peter said, feeling defensive, but not surprised that he’d brought it up. Tony was wearing a shirt with a high collar that had concealed – somewhat – the mark that Peter had put on his neck when he’d bit him. It was starting to heal, but definitely still visible. He’d wondered if there was going to be a conversation about it. “I’m not going to _apologize_ , though. I-“

“No. I don’t mean _why_ you did it,” Stark interrupted. “I mean, did you _like_ it? Did you enjoy taking me like that? Feeling me under you? Powerless? Forcing me to take your cock…”

“It felt good.”

“Now you know how it felt for me to be with you. And I know how _you_ felt, too, though. It was a good lesson for _both_ of us, I think – even though I don’t want a repeat of it.”

“Yeah. I know. It won’t happen, again.”

“Good. But… for the record… If you find yourself getting stressed, _I’m_ here. You know, if you want a bath, or something.”

He didn’t expound on that. Peter nodded, and turned his attention back to the meal, but the tips of his ears were decidedly red when he did.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”


	22. 22

“You look tired.”

Peter nodded, not denying it.

“I _am_ , uncle.” He smiled, though, obviously not suffering. “Being a soldier is _exhausting_.”

“But you were one, before.”

“A conscripted soldier doesn’t have to do anything. Just whatever he’s told; march here and there, clean this or that and do whatever else to be useful. What I’m learning, now, is a lot different – and more complicated. There are a lot of logistics involved in running an army, and Commander Stark wants me to understand all of them. It’ll make me a better leader.”

The Sultan looked impressed.

“That makes sense.” He studied the boy. “And how is he treating you?”

“Like a minion.” Another smile. “He’s polite and very kind. It’s the weapons master and my hand to hand instructors that are beating me up every day – but that is common, so I can’t complain.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

Peter nodded.

“Thank you for inviting me to lunch, though. I can postpone my sword lesson until tomorrow.”

He went on to describe to his uncle the training that he was receiving from all three instructors, although he really concentrated on the weapons and the hand to hand. _They_ were the ones that he knew the sultan would be the most curious about, after all. He’d come away bruised from having a blow land from a practice sword, but like he’d said, it wasn't unheard of, and it would be ridiculous to complain about it.

The lessons with _Tony_ , however, while not as exciting, were just as interesting. In the three weeks since he’d started his internship under the war leader, he’d already learned much about how to make an army run smoothly. Stark and he would start the day early and – aside from the break Peter would take to train with his sword, and to learn how to defend himself hand to hand – they worked until late into the evening. Often the boy would be so tired by the end of his day that he’d simply take a quick bath and fall into his bed, asleep almost immediately, and awake far too soon the next day, it seemed.

Point in fact, even though he had taken time to have lunch with his uncle (an invitation to eat with the Sultan took precedence over any training on his schedule) Peter still had many responsibilities for the rest of the day, and when he finished eating, he excused himself to go find Stark and get his orders.

“How was lunch?” Tony asked, watching his protégé walk into the office he used when he needed to be where others could find him.

“It was good, thank you. What did I miss?”

His relationship with the commander was a lot more relaxed, now, than before. Relaxed in the sense that he wasn't uncertain around him. He didn’t flinch when Tony spoke up, or made any sudden motions that Peter wasn't expecting. He didn’t hesitate when the man asked him to do something, trying to find an ulterior motive – or a trap. They worked closely together, and despite the long hours they both were enjoying the others’ company.

Of course, that brought in a different kind of tension between them. Both were very much aware of the other when they stood close to look at a document, or at a map, and Tony was hard-pressed to not reach out and slide a hand along the boy’s side, just to see if he’d shiver at the touch like he used to. He didn’t, though. Not because he was worried about the extremely thinly veiled threat of the younger man’s uncle, but because he was enjoying the way that Peter was relaxing around him, and didn’t want to screw that up by making a move the boy might misinterpret.

So, instead, he kept his hands to himself and simply used the time with Peter to get to know him better and to allow him to do the same in as stress free an environment as he could allow considering just how much of a workload he was piling on the boy. He was impressed (not surprisingly, since he’d already recognized Peter’s brilliance) and when he was honest with himself, he had to admit that he was beyond infatuated and almost certainly in love with him.

Something that he wasn't completely sure would be reciprocated although he sometimes caught Peter watching him in a way that seemed to have nothing to do with tactics, logistics, or how many trenches a soldier could dig in a day.

“I was waiting for you,” Tony told the boy. “I want to do a walk through of some of the barracks. Ready?”

“Of course.”

They left, with Tony’s aide walking with them. The barracks that Tony had in mind were flush against the north wall of the city, so they found themselves walking through a marketplace on the way. It was bustling, but Tony and Peter were discussing his progress thus far, only interrupted when the occasional vendor would shout a greeting and make sure everyone in the vicinity knew what he or she was selling. Peter would slow down to look, but Tony’s day was long enough without mingling with the populace, just then, and he didn’t even look twice.

The walk wasn't too long, but the distractions were many – for _Peter_ , at least.

Stark and his aide were in a short discussion about the commanding officer in charge of the barracks that they were getting ready to inspect when Tony suddenly realized that the boy wasn't walking with them, any longer. He stopped, frowning, and looked back the way they’d come, somewhat annoyed and ready to scowl his displeasure to the younger man for not keeping up.

He didn’t see him, though, and that made him turn and head back, suddenly worried that something had happened. Peter was still edgy being alone outdoors and now he was surrounded by a large crowd of strangers. Who knew how that could affect him? His sharp eyes scanned the milling crowd for any sign of the boy’s rust-colored tunic amidst the bright colors of the market and a moment later was rewarded with the sight of Peter kneeling down beside a little boy of maybe four, handing him a piece of fruit while talking to the boy’s mother.

“Hey…”

All three looked up, and Tony studied the young man’s expression for any sign of distress, but didn’t seem to find any – but Peter saw how worried he looked.

“Is everything alright?” he asked, standing up and wiping his hands while nodding a goodbye to the child’s mother when she picked him up.

“Yes. Of course,” Stark lied, trying to hide his concern – and his annoyance at himself for being so concerned. “I was looking for you, is all.”

“I’m sorry. He ran from the stall his mother tends and I didn’t want him to get lost.”

“It’s fine.” The young man was a prince; he was supposed to take care of the people around him, right? Tony couldn’t chide him for it. “Come on, though. We need to get going, or we’re not going to finish until midnight.”

“Yes, Commander.”

><><><><><><

It didn’t take until midnight, but it was late when they finally returned to the administration complex. Both were hungry and tired, and there had been a few issues at the barracks that had needed to be addressed with the officers in charge of those men. Nothing serious enough to warrant official comments, but definitely needing to be addressed by the people in charge so they wouldn’t become an issue.

As was their usual pattern by then, Tony explained to Peter the why and what of the actions that he’d taken with the officers while they went to the commander’s quarters to find dinner waiting on his table, courtesy of Tony’s ever efficient aide. Peter simply picked up a small loaf of bread and walked to the sofa, sitting down with a tired sigh. He was too tired to eat anything really heavy, but the bread smelled amazing.

Tony didn’t miss how exhausted he looked, and understood completely. The boy’s lessons with him were going well, and his sword lessons were progressing faster than expected, considering they were focusing his training on both hands being equally proficient. And then there was his hand to hand. Of course he was tired. His days were more exhausting than Tony’s and wearing on him, despite his youth.

Stark picked up a roll, as well, but split it open and slid some roast beef and sauces on it before closing the top. He made two such sandwiches, and then walked over to the sofa.

“Here,” he said, handing one to the boy. “Eat that.”

Peter didn’t argue; he just took it and started nibbling on it.

“Thank you.”

“I think we should take tomorrow off.”

“I’m fine.”

“ _I’m_ tired, though.” Tony settled beside Peter, reaching for a report. “I could use a break, and your instructors tell me that you’re doing well enough. A day off wouldn’t mar your training.”

The younger man nodded.

“Alright. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Tony took a bite of his roll and turned his attention to the paper he was reading as he ate. It was an inventory of surplus weapons and not too interesting, but like everything else, it needed to be taken care of. He hadn’t even finished the first page, however, when a thump and a motion caught his peripheral vision. He saw the remains of the sandwich fall to the floor, and looked at Peter, who was dozing next to him, head leaned back against the sofa, dead to the world.

The commander smiled, softly, and finished his own sandwich before he set the report aside. Then he stood, and leaned over, brushing his fingers against Peter’s cheek.

“Hmmm?”

The boy didn’t even open his eyes.

“I’m going to put you to bed,” Stark murmured.

“Okay.”

Peter didn’t even rouse as Tony gathered him into his powerful arms and easily picked him up. He carried the boy to his own bed and supported him while he undressed him, leaving his underclothes on, but removing boots, trousers and shirt. Then he covered him, warmly.

“Tony…?”

Eyes still closed, Peter was nonetheless still aware of who he was with, obviously.

“Go to sleep,” Tony whispered.

“You’ll stay?”

“I’ll be on the couch.”

“It’s your bed…”

Tony brushed a kissed against his cheek – and then, because he couldn’t help himself, he kissed his lips, also.

“You can use it, tonight. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Peter drifted off, asleep now, and Stark watched him sleep for a long minute before he forced himself to leave, going back into the dining room and suddenly restless. He wanted to join the younger man. Wanted to strip himself – _and_ Peter – down to skin and then press up against him and more. So much more. Which was why he was going to sleep on the sofa.

With a grumbling sigh, he went to the couch and picked up his report, ready for any distraction that he could find, just then.


	23. 23

“Are you going to sleep all day?”

The voice wasn't a whisper, but it was soft, and warm and tinged with amusement. Enough so that Peter smiled, even as he woke.

“Hmmm?”

Fingers brushed his forehead.

“I know I said you could have the day off…” came Tony’s voice. “But if you sleep all day, you’re wasting it.”

“I’m pretty sleepy,” Peter said, still not opening his eyes. He stretched, though, feeling the comfortable bed and the warm blankets and vaguely remembering Tony telling him that he was going to put him to bed. “Aren't you tired?”

“No.”

He wasn't, either. The couch wasn't that comfortable, but he’d slept well, despite that, and had woken only a little later than his normal time. A quick word with his aide to let him know – and to have him tell anyone else who might come looking for him – that he was taking the day as a personal day. Which meant leave him be, unless there was an emergency. Then he’d had a bath, trimmed his facial hair and dressed in relaxed clothing that had no indication of his rank, and had spent a few long minutes watching Peter sleep from the doorway of his bedroom.

But the restlessness from the night before still had hold of him, now that he was awake, and since he couldn’t sleep in, he decided to wake the boy. Fair was fair, after all – and besides, he was pretty certain that it was Peter’s presence that had him so restless in the first place.

“Hmmm…”

Tony rolled his eyes.

“Wake up,” he whispered, brining his face down to brush his lips against the younger man’s ear, and smiling when he saw him shiver. “Breakfast is coming, along with clean clothes, and there’s a bath ready for you.”

Now Peter did open his eyes, looking up at him sleepily.

“With you?”

It was Tony’s turn to shiver, even though he knew Peter was still more asleep than awake and probably didn’t know exactly what he was saying. It was still tempting.

“I had my bath,” he replied.

“M’kay…”

Peter closed his eyes, again, and Stark shook his head, amused.

“Wake up and go take your bath,” he told the young man, peppering his ear with tender kisses that were designed to keep him from going back to sleep – and take advantage of his sleepiness to get a little cuddling in while he could. “The water is going to get cold, and I’ve already given everyone the day off.”

Peter nodded, opened his eyes, again, and yawned as he pulled the blankets off. He sat up in the bed, stretching, and the got up and headed for the bathing room.

He was pretty hungry, and definitely enjoyed waking up like that.

><><><><><

Tony was at the table when the boy came out of the bathroom. He was still slightly damp from the bath and from washing his hair, but he was much more awake, and now he, too, was dressed in comfortable clothing that was designed for a relaxing day away from all responsibilities.

“Better?” Stark asked as he watched him sit down and pull a piece of fruit from the bowl on the table.

“Yes. Thank you.”

“Good.” The older man pushed a plate loaded with sausages and eggs toward him. “What are you going to do with your free day?”

Peter speared a few sausages and put them on his plate. He looked at Tony, though, rather than eat them.

“What are _you_ going to do?”

“Depends on you, I suppose.” The expression on Peter’s face made him think that he had something in mind, and Tony didn’t have anything planned; he just didn’t want to do anything too strenuous. “Did you have something in mind?”

“I was thinking that I’d like to go for a ride,” Peter replied. “Check out more of my new estates.”

“Oh.”

The boy hesitated.

“I’d prefer not to go alone, though.”

He didn’t need to remind the commander that he was still edgy about being alone. Tony already knew. He was there for the inception of it.

“You shouldn’t go alone, Peter,” he said. “You’re a _prince_. You shouldn’t be wandering around by yourself. I’m not doing anything else. If you’d like, I’ll accompany you.”

He was hoping that that was what Peter had been asking from him, but he wasn't certain, of course. It was Peter’s way to decline his company if he was reading the situation wrong. The young man smiled, though, and his expression was relieved.

“I’d like that. Thank you.” He chewed on a sausage. “We could make a day of it,” Peter suggested. “Maybe take lunch and ride to the far eastern edge? I haven’t had a chance to go that far, yet. I hear it’s beautiful.”

“Of course.”

Tony hid his approval of the notion, but he liked the idea of having Peter all to himself for an entire day. A day of no responsibilities, that was. He spent plenty of time with him, after all. But this could be so much better.

Peter beamed.

“Thank you.”

“Finish eating,” Tony told him, beginning to load up his plate. “We’ll see what the cooks have in their larder that might make a good picnic. I’m not taking military travel rations if I can avoid it.”

There was only so much he’d do for the boy on his day off, after all.

>><><>><<

Less than an hour later, they were on their way.

Tony made sure that his aide knew where they were going, however. A Commander and a prince don’t just up and vanish, after all, even on a rest day. Tony’s saddle had a small bundle bouncing along behind him, filled with the makings of a fine lunch – all items that would stay fresh for several hours and still be fit for two consumption when they grew hungry. Peter’s had an emergency kit behind his, since they were both well aware that there was always a chance something could come up – even though they were in friendly lands surrounded by a friendly populace.

Which was why they both carried weapons, as well.

It turned out they didn’t need the swords they were wearing, however. As the two men rode through the city, first and then out the large gate in the eastern wall, they were recognized and greeted by many military men charged with protecting the city’s walls. As they rode out into the countryside, neither was recognized for who they were, but were the recipients of many friendly greetings from the various farmers, merchants and other people that they met.

“It’s a sign of a healthy and happy people,” Tony pointed out, unable to keep from giving Peter lessons when the opportunity came up, even on their day off. “If you’re in a strange land, watch how the common people greet people they don’t know or recognize,” the commander said as he shined a piece of fruit a farmer in a wagon going the opposite direction (heading into the city to make a produce delivery or two, no doubt) had tossed to each of them. “If they’re open and friendly, things are going well. If they’re distrustful, keep your hand on your sword – and be wary of their lords, because something will be off with them.”

Peter nodded his acceptance of that wisdom.

“Smart.”

Which made Tony smirk.

“I’m not just another pretty face.”

The boy chuckled, and bit into his own fruit, cheerfully.

><<><<<>>>><

By the time they stopped for their meal – more of a late lunch than anything, really – they’d reached the area that Peter had wanted to explore, further. It wasn't wilderness, really, but rolling countryside with more trees than open farmland, purposely kept uncultivated to allow deer and other wild game to roam. As such, there weren’t a lot of people around, but it didn’t matter. The company they were keeping, just the two of them, was plenty for the moment.

As they’d been riding, Tony had been telling Peter various humorous stories from some of his earlier campaigns and exploits, while Peter had been enjoying the relaxed pace of the ride, and the man he was riding with. They used the blankets from Peter’s emergency kit to spread on the ground on an open area of grass, in the shade of a massive oak tree, and Peter lounged indolently, while watching Tony cobble together their meal.

Stark noticed, of course, and gave the boy what was supposed to be an irritated look, but was nothing of the sort.

“ _I’m_ the commander,” he pointed out as he put together hot roast beef sandwiches and poured broth to dip them in from an ingenious gourd-shaped thermos. “You should be doing this, don’t you think?”

Peter smiled, rolling onto his back in an exaggerated show of laziness.

“I’m a prince of the blood, commander,” he replied, stretching, glancing at their grazing horses to make sure they were properly hobbled before looking back at him. “Besides, I can’t _cook_.”

Tony snorted, amused.

“Likely story.”

“Did you want to test it?” Peter asked. “So far from replacement rations?”

“That is an excellent point,” the older man agreed. “But some day, soon, you’re going to make me dinner – and it’ll probably be delicious.”

“If you enjoy cold cut sandwiches, it will be.”

Stark chuckled, and handed Peter his share, and the two feel silent while eating, although they were fairly close together, since the blankets weren’t that big a platform to protect them from the itchy grass.

“This was a good idea,” Tony said, finally, as he gathered the remains of their dishes and put them back in the pack. “Thank you for inviting me.”

Peter smiled.

“Thank you for coming. The other option was inviting one of the cavalry guards, or something, and I much prefer your company over theirs.”

Tony’s expression changed at the thought of Peter being alone like they were with one of the cavalry officers that he’d enjoyed the company of on their journey back to the city, rather than with him. He knew that Peter hadn’t mean one of them, only someone who was comfortable in the saddle like their troops were, but it made him very much aware of the fact that the two of them were alone.

He wanted to be alone with Peter. Wanted to see if the boy had any interest in pursuing something more physical with him. He stretched out, casually, beside Peter’s lithe form, but was rolled toward him, watching him.

“I prefer your company, too, my prince,” he murmured, reaching for the younger man’s hand and running his thumb along the boy’s palm. “You _know_ that, right?”

Peter’s eyes were suddenly a little darker, a little hungry – and his palm was a little damp.

“Tony…”

“Hmmm?” the older man brought that hand up to his lips and brushed a kiss against it, but he never broke eye contact with Peter. “What do you want, Peter?” he asked, softly. “What can I do for you?”

The younger man’s lower lip vanished between his teeth, his expression a little uncertain, but filled with want.

“Don’t hurt me…” he whispered. “Please?”

Physically? Emotionally? Mentally? He didn’t expound on it, but Tony didn’t need him to. Stark shook his head, kissed the palm again before letting it go and rolled again, even more toward Peter’s tense body. His hand slid along the boy’s side, stopping at his hip.

“I’ll never hurt you, again, Peter,” he vowed, softly. “Not for the rest of my days.”

And then he leaned in and kissed him.


	24. 24

The kiss was gentle, and almost hesitant. He couldn’t help himself, though, because he had to taste the boy’s lips. Tony didn’t press, though, giving Peter a chance to pull away if he didn’t want what Tony was offering.

Only when he felt Peter pressing against his lips did he allow his to part, slightly, and his tongue to lightly slide along the corner of Peter’s mouth, requesting, but not yet demanding, entrance. With a soft sigh, Peter’s lips parted for him and Tony’s tongue slid into his mouth, pressing harder into the kiss.

It didn’t last long, but it was followed by several more and both of them were breathless when they finally were forced to come up for air. Tony was supporting his body with one arm, but the free hand came up and cupped the younger man’s cheek.

“I missed you,” he said. “Being able to kiss you like this, I mean.”

Peter smiled, but it was a little sad.

“You _never_ kissed me like that.”

“No. I suppose not.” He hadn’t _loved_ Peter, then, had he? He’d cherished him, and wanted to make him his and only his, but he’d looked at him as property, and not as an equal. Not as someone that he could actually be with on an even footing. “I’m sorry.”

“Me, too.” The boy reached out with his free hand, and brushed it against the front of Tony’s shirt. “I _liked_ it, though,” he added, looking hopeful.

Tony chuckled, relieved.

“Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“Enough to let me do it, again?”

“Yes.”

He did, too. Leaned right in, pushing Peter backward, this time, until he was flat on his back on the blanket. Tony kissed him, bracing himself on his elbow and sliding his hand along Peter’s cheek while his tongue sought entrance into his mouth, again, and teased the younger man’s tongue and teeth, playing with him and savoring the flavor of him.

Being on his back like he was, it freed Peter’s hands to roam, and they did. He slid his hands along the larger man’s arms, feeling the way his muscles flexed when he brushed against them, or when Tony shifted, slightly, over him. Then his right hand caressed his chest and side as he played with Tony’s tongue, dancing along with it and trying to trap it in his mouth. Stark groaned into the kiss, enjoying it, and Peter’s knee moved, shifting to allow him a better position over him, and Tony easily slid between them, not even breaking the kiss to find his spot.

Peter’s hand moved, then, sliding down Tony’s belly, tugging the shirt the older man was wearing until it came untucked from his trousers. The boy chuckled into the kiss at Tony’s approving growl when his hand found the coarse hairs on the commander’s bare stomach, and then followed the trail those hairs made to the waist of Tony’s pants. His hand didn’t slide under them, but he did cup that growing bulge he found, easily tracing the length and shape of Tony’s cock.

“Yes, Peter,” Tony murmured into the kiss. His hips moved, sliding his arousal against Peter’s hand a few times, encouraging him to continue doing what he was doing. “Don’t stop…”

Peter shivered, and did as he was told, growing excited, as well. He caressed and stroked Tony, all the while plying his tongue against the other’s. Tony finally broke the kiss, but didn’t lift his head. His mouth trailed kisses along Peter’s jaw, and then his neck.

The older man moved down him, then, and it was his turn to pull Peter’s shirt from his pants and push it up, baring the boy’s belly and chest. Then he peppered kisses along the nearly hairless chest, following the trail of almost unnoticeable hairs down to Peter’s belly, and then lower, using his mouth to catch the bulge that was straining the boy’s trousers.

“Right there, Tony,” Peter whispered, unable to reach Stark’s cock any longer so his hands returned to the other man’s chest, pinching his nipples, lightly, as he murmured his approval to what Tony was doing to him. “Don’t tease me… please…”

Understanding that he was still just a little uncertain – and maybe even afraid it was some kind of terrible trick – Tony didn’t play with him like he might have, and probably would at a later date. Instead, he growled, softly, and sat up, moving to undo Peter’s pants and taking the boy’s boots off and then sliding those offending trousers off, freeing his cock, which was already leaking precum down the shaft.

“You’re so beautiful, Peter,” Tony whispered, kissing him, again, before moving lower to turn his attention to the boy’s cock. “So eager for me.”

“Yes.”

“We’re not going to rush,” Tony warned him. “I want to make sure you’re ready for me. Understand?”

He was authoritarian enough that he had to be in charge. And in love enough that he wanted to make sure Peter understood his reasoning behind what he was about to do.

“Yes.”

Tony pulled his shirt off, and then sat Peter up enough that he could finish undressing him, as well. With his own pants still on, making sure that he didn’t give into his desire too quickly, he worked his way down Peter’s body, again, this time using his tongue just as much as his lips, and tasting the boy’s skin.

Practically tasting his desire.

He found Peter’s cock and didn’t hesitate, taking him into his mouth and bearing down on him, sucking him and slurping the precum from his shaft and the slit at the top. Peter cried out in pleasure and writhed under him, forcing Tony to take hold of his hips in his large hands, holding him still while he continued to suck him, bobbing his head and taking him deep, and then pulling out so he could lavish attention on just the head. It didn’t take long, then, for Peter to moan a warning and then erupt into the older man’s mouth – which had been what Tony wanted. He sucked him, lovingly, _eagerly_ , as the smaller man bucked under him, emptying into his mouth with a series of soft grunts that were music to Tony’s ears.

Only when he was still, once more, gasping, did Tony finally release his cock. He rolled Peter over, but the boy hesitated, twisting around and trying to look up at him.

“Shhh, honey,” Stark murmured, moving up on him and kissing him, softly. “Don’t be afraid. I’m going to get you ready for me.”

Peter nodded, and lowered his head between his forearms, trembling as Tony spread his legs and moved between them. He could feel the man removing his own pants, now, even as Tony’s lips kissed a trail down Peter’s back, along the small of his back and then pressing a soft kiss against his right ass cheek. Peter flinched, though, when Tony spread his cheeks and kissed his hole, sliding his tongue along it and trying to force it into him.

“Tony…”

He didn’t lift his head, but his shaking was enough to make the older man lift his and look at him.

“You’re okay, Peter,” he reassured. “It’s not going to hurt.”

He’d never rimmed the boy, before, of course. It wasn't something that slaves had done to them. Especially from someone of Tony’s rank. But a commander could do it to a prince. A prince that he _needed_. That he wanted to enjoy their coupling so much that he was invited back, repeatedly. Peter nodded, and Tony returned to what he’d been doing. He spread the boy’s cheeks, then, and buried his face between them, licking him and spitting on him, sliding a finger into him once he was certain the boy was lubricated enough that it wouldn’t hurt.

“Yes. Like that…”

Tony murmured his own agreement, and found Peter’s prostate with the searching digit, stroking it and caressing it, and making him tremble for a completely different reason, now. He was sure the writhing boy didn’t even notice the second finger sliding into him, or the way that he scissored them to stretch him. He was certain that he didn’t object to the third, or the extra kisses Tony pressed against that delicious hole, always adding more saliva as his mouth watered ridiculously in response to the taste of him.

Now he moved his hand and once more had his mouth on Peter. He drove his tongue into him, jabbing it as deep as he could, forcing Peter to hold still while he did, giving him a rhythm to fall into as Peter began to press back against him with every motion. Tony finally pulled away, and rolled the younger man over onto his back, once more, and he smiled down at him.

Peter’s face was deeply flushed, his eyes wide with want and his cock was rigid once more.

“I need you,” Tony told him, stroking his own cock that was aching and leaking precum in what felt likes waves of pleasure. “I want you so badly.”

Peter nodded, shifting under him, offering himself to him, his brown eyes locked on Tony’s as he reached for him.

Without waiting for another invitation, Tony’s precum slick head nudged against Peter’s soaked hole, and he slid into him, his eyes watching Peter’s expression for any indication of discomfort. None were forthcoming, and the man made a satisfied noise when he hilted himself deep inside the boy. Peter’s echoing moan was gratifying.

Tony leaned forward, kissing the younger man as he started to move inside him, pulling back a little, and then thrusting forward. The motions were gentle and steady, and it was Peter who finally increased their pace, his own hips bucking against Tony’s invasion, his eyes closing in bliss when Tony’s cockhead hit his prostate almost repeatedly. The boy was clinging to him, now, and Tony started fucking him, harder. He buried his face against the junction of Peter’s neck and shoulder, and thrust into him, over and over, feeling Peter wrap his long legs around him to hold him close as he did.

The boy cried out, his cock stimulated by the rough hairs on Tony’s belly, and he sprayed both of them with his release, while Tony continued to pump into him, his breath coming in ragged gasps as Peter now urged him on, hands coming to cup his ass with his fingers digging into the tender flesh there, holding him, tight. The boy made the most amazing noises; soft cries of pleasure, low moans of bliss, and the occasional grunt when Tony went particularly deep. Tony finally hit the edge, and teetered on the precipice for just a moment.

He felt Peter’s lips find his ear, and the boy bit him, and Tony’s climax slammed through him in a rush at the sharp pain. He drove in hard, and held himself still as he came, filling Peter with his seed. The boy was holding him so tightly that even if he’d wanted to pull away at that moment, he wouldn’t have been able to.

Finally, spent and exhausted, Tony collapsed onto Peter’s belly and chest, breath coming in gasps and his face turning to press tender kisses against the tender skin of the boy’s neck. He stayed still for a long moment, and finally sighed with his release.

“Did I hurt you?”

There was a slightly muffled chuckle; a satisfied sound that made Tony smile in happiness.

“No. It felt good. Thank you.”

Tony’s reply was amused.

“You’re welcome.” He lifted himself and pulled out with regret, enjoying the sight of his cock sliding from the boy’s ass. He was so tempted to press it back in and simply see if he could go another round, then and there, but he didn’t have the stamina to even try, and he knew it. Instead, he collapsed on the blanket beside Peter, and pulled the boy into his arms, holding him close and guiding his head to his chest. “I love your new estate,” he murmured, closing his eyes.

“I do, too.”

Stark threaded his fingers through Peter’s sweat-damp hair, and waited for his heart to slow its racing. He felt Peter fall asleep on him almost immeidatley, and smiled, reaching blindly for the edge of the blankets they were laying on and pulled it over their naked bodies.

Then he fell asleep, too.


	25. 25

“The healers have seen you?”

Peter nodded.

“Yes, Uncle.”

“And you’re alright?”

“They were _ants_ ,” Peter said, blushing just a little. “Not scorpions.”

“Quite a few, though…” the Sultan eyed his nephew speculatively, not missing the small red marks that were scantily scattered on his face, although there were several on his forearms, where his short-sleeved shirt left them bare. And a lot more when his clothing was covering him. “Commander Stark has been checked, as well?”

The boy’s face reddened, further, but he nodded, again.

“He’s fine. They weren’t fire ants, luckily. Just feisty ones that didn’t appreciate us settling in so close to their nest.”

“One wonders what had the two of you so preoccupied that you didn’t notice so many of them until well after they started biting…” the Sultan said, giving his nephew a sly, sidelong, glance, amused at how red the boy’s face was getting.

One didn’t really need to wonder. But it was amusing.

“We fell asleep,” Peter admitted.

They’d been tangled in each other’s arms and the first bites had gone unnoticed as they’d slept. But eventually both had come awake to the sting of countless small, black, ants swarming over them from somewhere under the blanket. It had been an inglorious finale to what had been amazing lovemaking. Peter had scrambled to his feet to allow Tony the chance to regain his, as well, and hands that had been gentle in their loving were now quick to swipe the tiny insects from Peter’s back and chest, while the boy did the same for him.

Then, taking the hint, and already feeling the sting from the small bites on sweaty skin, they’d dressed and gathered their things and ridden back to the city, annoyed for the most part – although Peter had begun to feel a little sick to his stomach, as well. Enough so that Stark had suggested that they have a healer look at him – just to make sure they weren’t some kind of venomous ants.

His uncle frowned at him.

“Do I need to have a discussion with the commander?” he asked, pointedly.

Peter shook his head, and his smile was amused and grateful.

“No, Uncle. We’re alright.”

“And you’ll advise me if that changes…”

It wasn't a request, and Peter knew it.

“Yes. Thank you.”

“Good. What did the healers suggest for the bites?”

“An oatmeal bath and rest.”

“Then take care of that. Advise Commander Stark that the two of you are officially off duty for the rest of the week to allow recovery.”

“He’ll say he doesn’t need that long, Uncle,” Peter pointed out.

“Then remind him who is Sultan.”

The boy smiled.

“I will.”

The Sultan shooed him away.

“Go take your bath and get some dinner. Call if you need anything.”

“I will.”

Peter bowed himself out of his uncle’s presence and made the long walk back to the administrative building – and Tony’s quarters. He knocked, politely, and waited to hear the invitation to enter. When he did, the first thing he saw was Tony sitting at the table, dressed only in a robe and talking to his aide. There was a meal on the table and Peter’s stomach growled at the delicious odors coming from it. Both men looked up, and Peter felt his heart skip a beat at the look in Tony’s expression.

“You saw your uncle?” the commander asked.

“Yes. He wanted to make sure no harm came of our bites.”

“And you told him we’re fine?”

“I did.” Peter smiled. “He advised me to tell you that we’re excused from all duties for the rest of the week – to allow recovery.”

“We don’t need a week,” Tony protested, surprised. “A day, at the most, and-“

“He also asked me to remind you who is Sultan.”

Stark rolled his eyes, now amused, and shrugged.

“Fine. A week.” He looked at his aide. “See to it that my generals all know that I won’t be available to them – short of an emergency – until the beginning of next week.”

“I’ll take care of it, my Lord.”

“Good. You’re dismissed to have the rest of the week off, as well. Enjoy the vacation – but do _not_ celebrate my discomfort, too much.”

The man smiled.

“Yes, my Lord.”

He left, and Stark gestured to the table, watching as Peter walked over, and not hiding the way he admired the boy’s grace and ease of movement.

“Are you hungry?”

“Yes.”

Peter seated himself in the chair closest to Tony’s and took a slice of meat.

“The healers have prepared a hot oatmeal bath,” Tony told him, waving a hand toward the bathing room. “They tell me it will stop the sting, and will keep our skin from itching. Are you interested in sharing mine with me? Or do we have them make you your own in your rooms?”

“You don’t mind?”

Tony shook his head.

“I thought I made my feelings known, back on your estate,” he said. “In case I haven’t, though, I very much want to spend as much time with you as you’ll allow. Some of it – _most of it_ – in various stages of nakedness.”

“I want that, too, Tony.”

The older man smiled, relieved.

“Then eat your dinner, your highness, and I’ll share my bath with you.”

Peter looked at him, somewhat shyly.

“And you’ll love me, again?”

“I hope to, yes. If you allow me to.”

The boy’s smile and blush was answer enough and sincere.

“I’d like that.”

Tony nodded.

“We do have to make sure there aren’t any misunderstandings, though,” he said, spearing another slice of meat and putting it on Peter’s plate, and the dishing him some of the sides. He definitely was going to need his strength that evening, if Tony had anything to say about it. “So let’s talk, first.”

Peter nodded, looking suddenly nervous. As if he was sure that the bad news was coming. Or that Tony was going to tell him something he wasn't going to like hearing.

“Alright.”

“In all things military, I outrank you.”

“I know.”

“That doesn’t change, just because we’re together…”

“Of course, not.”

“ _You_ outrank _me_ in civilian life.”

Peter nodded, a little confused.

“Right.”

“In bed? I might get bossy with you. I might tell you what I want you to do. Or what I want to do to you. I don’t want you to become frightened. Or think that I’ve suddenly reverted us back to our former dynamic – but I can’t promise I won’t want to cover you and have you every chance I get.”

“Oh.”

Stark reached for Peter’s hand.

“I promised you that I won’t hurt you, and I won’t. But if I frighten you, make sure you tell me, and I’ll back off – a little, at least – until you’re no longer afraid. Understand?”

The boy nodded, again, and Tony saw relief in his expressive eyes.

“Yes.”

“Good.” Tony smiled, suddenly very hungry – and not for food. “Eat, honey,” he ordered the boy. “I want you in the bath as soon as possible.”

Peter reached for some bread, but he smiled.

“Am I bathing you? Or are you bathing me?”

“We’ll take turns,” Tony said, reaching out and touching his cheek with his fingertips, and brushing his thumb against the boy’s lower lip. “But I’ll take care of you, first.”

Peter caught Stark’s hand, turning his head and kissing the older man’s palm.

“Yes, my Lord.”

Tony shivered.

“Eat, fast.”

Peter chuckled, but did as he was told.


	26. Epilogue

“Well, commander?” the Sultan asked, standing next to Tony while they watched Peter face off against the weapons master. “What do you think?”

The supreme commander nodded toward the two combatants, always impressed when he saw the younger of the two switch his sword from one hand to the other as easily as breathing to continue the fight with his right hand.

“He’s extremely adept with a blade, your Majesty.”

“I expect nothing less after two years under your tutelage. That _wasn't_ what I meant, however.”

“He’s brilliant; as you know, he soaks up lessons and histories and every narrative I and all the generals, colonels and even the sergeants have ever told him, and spits back the winning combination to each scenario. I would trust him to lead one of my units, now, and I’ve already used him as an advisor – and have had him teaching the advanced tactics to my officer trainees.”

“I’m pleased to hear that.”

Tony nodded, his eyes never leaving Peter’s form as the young man twirled, dodged and twisted, avoiding every swipe of his opponent’s blade. And it was a real blade, now, too. He was long past the time when they were simply using wooden sticks with simple padding. The stakes in these practice bouts were potentially serious, although the weapons master had yet to kill anyone he was training, and Peter had never even been nicked by the other man’s steel.

“I’m pleased to be able to say it.”

“That still isn’t what I _meant_ , however.”

Tony turned to look at him, finally.

“You’re referring to the boy?”

The boy was the son of one of the Sultan’s conquests. A young man barely sixteen, who had been captured on the battlefield by one of Tony’s generals and handed over to the Sultan as a gift. The Sultan had immediately offered him to Tony – to become a body slave for the Supreme Commander, and an object lesson for the young man’s father.

“Yes. What do I do with him?”

Tony shrugged, and sighed.

“Clean him up and return him to his father – as a sign of the grace and mercy only you are capable of showing.”

“You don’t want him?”

“I don’t _need_ him, Majesty. And it would upset Peter.”

The Sultan made a face.

“Are his feelings so important to you, then?”

“ _Everything_ about him is important to me,” Tony admitted.

He loved Peter. Loved him more and more as time had passed and he’d gotten to know the young man in every way he could. His mind was brilliant, his body amazing and his heart was gold in a way that Tony’s never could be.

Peter doted on Tony; he massaged him when he was aching and sore, he assisted him when he needed someone to bounce his thoughts off of, and he offered himself up to the older man when Tony ached with desire and needed to be loved and cherished.

In return for that, Tony gave himself to the boy in a way that he’d never thought himself capable of doing. With only a hopeful expression, Peter could get Tony on his knees in front of him, pulling his trousers down and catching his cock in his mouth to lavish it for hours if that was what Peter needed. Only for the young man that he loved so much would Tony make sure to take such effort and care to prepare him – putting his own aching need on hold to get the boy stretched or drenched – before he slid into him with exquisite pleasure. Only Peter could command him, and Tony loved it.

The last two years had been wonderful for the two of them, and Stark wasn't going to ruin that by breaking the promise that he’d made to him. He’d never hurt Peter. Physically. Or emotionally. And bringing in a body slave would be a slap to the boy that he loved in every way possible.

“I’m glad to hear that, too,” the Sultan said, with a slightly pleased tone.

“Why do you say that, Majesty?” Tony asked, curiously.

“Because I’m not sure what to do with Peter,” the Sultan said. “My thought was that he would make an excellent warlord, held against the day that you decide to retire. But he won’t, will he?”

“No. He’s a brilliant tactician, and well on his way to being a master swordsman, and the men love him without restraint, but he’ll never be ruthless enough to do what I do.”

The Sultan nodded, rubbing his face, resigned.

“That’s what I see, as well. So how do I tell him that without hurting him?”

“Tell him that he can’t be warlord, you mean?”

“Yes. I as much as promised him the position when you brought him home to me.”

Tony smiled.

“He doesn’t _want_ the position, your Majesty. Rest assured, if you tell him he isn’t in line for it, he’ll be more relieved than anything.”

“You’re certain?”

The Sultan knew about their relationship, of course. And he approved of it, once he was assured that it was mutually desired. Peter was happy. That made the Sultan happy, as well.

“Definitely.” Tony watched as a sword flew through the air, plucked from the weapons master’s hand by a deft swipe of Peter’s blade – which made the boy yelp in triumph and the weapons master shake the hand with exaggerated pain as he slapped the boy, proudly, on the back before sending him off to retrieve his blade. “Would you care for my suggestion? To do with as you see fit?”

“Of course.”

“I’m thinking of retiring sooner than you might realize. I ache, sometimes, on cold mornings, and it takes more and more to limber me up each year. Peter and I would like to live together, on his estate. With nothing more pressing for us to worry about than raising sheep, or goats, or whatever he wants to grow.”

“Sounds peaceful.”

Tony smirked.

“It sounds _boring_ , Majesty. But, if you were to send your most promising young men to me – to _us_ – for their initial training in tactics, and military history, and swordsmanship, it would keep my reflexes sharp and give me something to do in my dotage. And Peter could have a place, and a responsibility. Something that he’d thrive at, I think.”

“He’d be interested in that?”

“Absolutely.”

The Sultan smiled.

“It’s a fine idea, Commander. Do you have a successor picked out?”

“I’ve decided, yes.”

“Begin his training, in earnest, then. Make sure he is ready to take over. By the time you have him prepared, I’ll make sure Peter’s estate has everything that is needed for you both to take on a teaching role. You won’t be allowed to retire, _officially_ , but your new title will be something more in keeping with your new duties – and you’ll still receive a stipend. A generous one, of course, in deference to the duties you’re going to be taking on.”

“Thank you, Majesty. That’s generous of you.”

The Sultan nodded.

“It is. But like yourself, I want Peter to be happy. And if that means retiring my warlord and making him into a teacher, then that’s what I’ll do. As long as your successor is a worthy replacement.”

“I’ll make sure of it.”

“I know.”

“May I tell Peter? Or did you want to?”

“You tell him,” the boy’s uncle said, even as they watched Peter hand the weapons master his sword, bow politely to him and then look over at Tony and the Sultan. “Make sure it’s what he wants, and tell me if we need to modify the idea at all.”

“I will.”

“And come to dinner, tonight, Commander,” he added, smiling at the boy who was now walking over. “My wife doesn’t see him as much as she’d like – and I’m tired of listening to her complain about it.”

Tony chuckled.

“Yes, your Majesty.”

He’d wait until _after_ dinner, then, to tell Peter about their new future. Maybe when he had his arms around the young man in their bed. Or in the bath. The possibilities were as endless as their own, really.

It was a good feeling.

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this! And for the comments and kudos and even the suggestions. I had fun writing it - even though it was only supposed to be a couple chapters and went on to be much more than that. Keep safe, everyone.  
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